GIFT   OF 
Mrs.    John  B.   Casserly 


THE   LIFE   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE. 


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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

LITTLE,    BROWN,   AND    COMPANY, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE: 
PRESS  OF  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON. 


TO    THE    MEMORY 

OF 

LEMUEL     SHAW,    LL.D, 

FOR     THFRTY     YEARS     CHIEF     JUSTICE      OF      THE      SUPREME      COURT      OF 
MASSACHUSETTS, 

THIS   SECOND    EDITION   OF   THE   LIFE   OF    RUFUS    CHOATE 
IS    RESPECTFULLY   INSCRIBED. 


75G904 


PREFACE 


SECOND   EDITION   OF   THE   LIFE. 


THE  first  edition  of  the  Works  of  Mr.  Choate,  with  the 
Memoir  of  his  Life,  was  early  disposed  of,  and  for 
many  years  it  has  been  almost  impossible  to  obtain  a 
copy.  In  the  mean  time  the  wish  has  been  frequently 
expressed  that  the  Life  might  be  republished  by  itself. 
In  accordance  with  this  desire,  the  present  edition  has 
been  prepared.  Although  in  the  main  unchanged,  it 
will  be  found  to  contain  some  additions  in  the  form  of 
letters,  reminiscences,  and  selections  from  the  writings 
of  Mr.  Choate. 

While  I  cannot  fail  gratefully  to  recognize  the  kind 
ness  with  which  the  work,  as  originally  published,  was 
received,  especially  by  those  most  competent  to  judge, 
-  the  members  of  the  Massachusetts  Bar,  and  those 
who  knew  Mr.  Choate  most  familiarly,  —  yet  I  cannot 
but  feel  more  than  ever  how  inadequate  is  any  delinea 
tion  to  present  a  complete  picture  of  that  subtle,  ver- 


viii  PREFACE   TO   THE   SECOND  EDITION. 

satile,  and  exuberant  mind,  "  to  display  with  psycho 
logical  exactness  "  (if  I  may  use  his  own  words)  "  the 
traits  of  his  nature,"  to  unveil  "the  secrets  —  the 
marvellous  secrets  —  and  sources  of  that  vast  power 
which  we  shall  see  no  more  in  action,  nor  aught  in 
any  degree  resembling  it  among  men." 

We  shall  not  fail,  however,  I  trust,  to  learn  some 
lessons  of  fidelity,  and  unsparing  diligence,  and  unre 
mitting  labor,  for  which  no  genius  can  prove  a  substi 
tute,  as  well  as  those  other  lessons  of  high  purpose, 
and  broad  patriotism,  which  informed  his  life,  and 
which  the  new  condition  of  the  Republic  demands  of 
us  even  more  strenuously  than  did  the  old. 

S.  G.  B. 

HAMILTON  COLLEGE, 
CLINTON,  N.Y.,  Dec.  22,  1869. 


PREFACE 


FIRST   EDITION   OF   THE   LIFE   AND   WORKS. 


WHEN  first  requested  to  prepare  a  sketch  of  the  life 
of  Mr.  CHOATE,  I  was  not  ignorant  of  the  difficulty  of 
writing  it  so  as  to  present  a  fair  and  complete  portrait 
ure  —  the  traits  of  his  character  were  so  peculiar,  its 
lights  and  shades  so  delicate,  various,  and  evanescent. 
The  difficulty  has  not  grown  less  as  I  have  proceeded 
with  the  work,  and  no  one,  I  think,  can  be  so  well 
aware  as  I  am,  of  its  insufficiency. 

It  may  seem  singular  that  none  of  Mr.  Choate's  ad 
dresses  to  a  jury  are  included  in  this  collection  of  his 
speeches,  —  that  the  department  of  eloquence  in  which 
perhaps  he  gained  his  greatest  fame  should  here  be 
unrepresented.  In  this  disappointment,  those  by 
whom  this  selection  has  been  made,  certainly  share. 
It  was  not  until  the  very  last,  and  after  making  a  care 
ful  examination  of  every  accessible  report  of  his  legal 
arguments,  that  they  reluctantly  came  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  no  one  remained  which,  considering  the 
nature  of  the  subject,  or  of  the  report  itself,  would 
do  justice  to  the  advocate,  or  very  much  gratify  the 
reader. 


X  PREFACE   TO    THE   FIRST  EDITION. 

As  to  Mr.  Choate's  political  sentiments  and  action 
during  the  later  years  of  his  life,  it  did  not  seem  neces 
sary  to  do  more  than  to  give  his  opinions  as  they  were 
honestly  formed  and  frankly  expressed.  The  time 
has  not  yet  come  for  treating  fully  and  with  entire 
fairness  the  questions  of  those  days.  One  still  "  walks 
on  ashes  thinly  covering  fires." 

A  word  should  perhaps  be  said  with  reference  to  the 
fragments  of  translations  from  Thucydides  and  Taci 
tus,  which  close  these  volumes.  They  were  prepared 
solely  as  a  private  exercise  and  for  a  personal  pleasure 
and  advantage.  They  were  never  revised,  and  are 
given  precisely  as  found  on  loose  scraps  of  paper,  after 
Mr.  Choate's  decease.  But  they  have  struck  me,  as 
well  as  others  upon  whose  better  judgment  I  have  re 
lied,  as  affording  examples  of  felicitous  and  full  ren 
dering  of  difficult  authors,  and  as  indicating  something 
of  the  voluntary  labors  and  scholarly  discipline  of  an 
overtasked  lawyer,  who,  amidst  the  unceasing  and 
wearisome  calls  of  an  exacting  profession,  never  forgot 
his  early  love  of  letters. 

No  one  unacquainted  with  Mr.  Choate's  handwriting 
can  understand  the  difficulty  of  preparing  his  manu 
scripts  for  the  press.  For  performing  so  well  this  very 
perplexing  labor,  the  public  are  chiefly  indebted  to 
RUFUS  CHOATE,  Jr.,  and  EDWARD  ELLERTON  PRATT, 
Esqs. 

With  a  singular  and  almost  unaccountable  indiffer 
ence  to  fame,  Mr.  Choate  took  no  pains  to  preserve  his 
speeches.  The  manuscript  of  the  lecture,  —  written 
at  first  with  the  most  rapid  pen,  with  abbreviations, 
erasures,  and  interlineations,  —  had  no  sooner  fulfilled 
its  temporary  purpose,  than  it  was  thrust  among  waste 


PREFACE   TO   THE  FIRST  EDITION.  XI 

papers  and  forgotten.  He  had  not  the  time,  or  could 
not  bring  himself  to  take  the  trouble  to  recall  his  lost 
orations  or  legal  arguments.  His  lecture  on  the  Ro 
mance  of  the  Sea,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  popu 
lar  of  his  lectures,  was  lost  or  stolen  in  New  York. 
He  was  solicited  to  rewrite  it,  and  could  doubtless,  at 
any  time  for  years  afterward,  hate  reproduced  the 
whole  — 

"  apparell'd  in  more  precious  habit, 

More  moving-delicate,  and  full  of  life/' 

than  at  first,  but  other  matters  seemed  to  him  of  more 
importance,  and  the  half  promise  with  which  he  be 
guiled  his  friends  was  never  fulfilled. 

When  urged,  as  he  frequently  was,  to  prepare  a 
volume  of  speeches  for  the  press,  he'  usually  quieted 
the  solicitor  by  seeming  to  accede  to  his  request,  or 
evaded  him  by  some  rare  bit  of  pleasantry. 

It  is  a  matter  of  congratulation,  then,  that  so  much 
has  been  rescued  from  irretrievable  loss.  It  has  even 
been  found  necessary,  in  order  not  to  overcrowd  the 
volumes,  to  omit  many  lectures  and  speeches,  which 
all  who  heard  them  would  doubtless  be  glad  to  possess 
in  a  permanent  form.  Among  these  are  several  con 
gressional  and  political  speeches,  his  speech  in  the 
Massachusetts  Convention  on  The  Basis  of  Represen 
tation,  and  his  lectures  on  The  Influence  of  Great 
Cities,  on  The  Mercantile  Profession,  on  Macaulay,  on 
Rogers,  on  Jefferson,  Hamilton,  and  Burr,  and  an 
earlier  lecture  on  Poland. 

The  engraving  which  accompanies  this  volume,  from 
a  photograph  by  Messrs.  SOUTHWORTH  &  HA  WES,  is 
considered  the  best  likeness  which  exists  of  Mr.  Choate 
in  repose.  A  very  striking  portrait  by  Mr.  AMES, — 


Xll  PREFACE   TO   THE  F1KST  EDITION. 

the  original  of  which  is  in  Dartmouth  College,  —  gives 
the  orator  in  action.  Besides  these,  Mr.  BRACKETT  has 
moulded  a  spirited  head  in  plaster,  and  Mr.  THOMAS 
BALL  has  sculptured  one  in  marble,  which  for  dignity, 
force,  and  truthfulness,  can  hardly  be  surpassed. 

While  I  have  received  aid  from  many  sources,  which 
I  should  be  glad  '  particularly  to  designate,  I  cannot 
help  acknowledging  my  special  obligation  to  the  Mem 
bers  of  the  Bar,  especially  of  Suffolk  and  of  Essex, 
many  of  whom  I  have  had  occasion  to  consult,  and 
from  all  have  received  every  assistance  possible  with 
out  reserve  or  hesitation.  I  am  also  much  indebted 
to  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  EVERETT  for  kindly  placing  at 
my  disposal  books  and  manuscripts  not  easily  acces 
sible  elsewhere,  which  were  indispensable  in  preparing 
the  sketch  of  Mr.  Choate's  life  in  Congress ;  and  to 
EDWARD  G.  PARKER,  Esq.,  for  a  free  use  of  materials 
which  he  had  collected  in  preparing  his  "  Reminis 
cences." 

The  publication  of  these  volumes,  though  ready  for 
the  press  many  months  since,  has  been  delayed  by 
causes  which  will  occur  to  every  one.  In  the  great 
peril  of  the  Republic,  what  else  could  be  thought 
of?  What  eloquence  be  heard  but  that  of  the  civil 
war?  But  the  counsels  of  the  wise  will  acquire  a 
deeper  meaning,  and  the  eloquence  of  patriotism  be 
listened  to  with  a  readier  acquiescence,  when  from  the 
present  tumult  and  strife  we  shall  emerge  upon  an 
other  era  "  bright  and  tranquil." 

S.  G.  B. 
HANOVER,  N.H.,  October  13,  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. —  1799-1830 1 

Birth  —  Ancestry  —  Boyhood  —  Account  by  his  Brother  — 
Studies  —  Characteristics —  Enters  College  —  Hank  — Testi 
mony  of  Classmates  —  Dartmouth  College  Case  —  Its  In 
fluence  on  his  Choice  of  a  Profession  —  Extract  from  Judge 
Perley's  Eulogy  —  Enters  Law  School  in  Cambridge  —  Goes 
to  Washington  and  Studies  with  Mr.  Wirt  —  Death  _  of, his 
Brother  Washington — Returns  to  Essex — Admission^to 
the  Bar — Testimony  of  Mr.  Wirt — Opens  an  Office  in 
Souln  Darivers  —  LeTEer  to  James  Marsh  —  Marriage  —  Suc 
cess —  Fidelity  to  Clients  —  Letter  from  Judge  Shaw  — 
Testimony  of  Hon.  Asahel  Huntington. 

CHAPTER  II.  —  1830-1840 35 

Removal  to  Salem — The  Essex  Bar — Successes — Appear 
ance —  Counsel  in  the  Knapp  Case  —  Studies  —  Ldtters  to 
President  Marsh  —  Elected  to  Congress  —  Commonplace 
Book  —  Enters  Congress  —  Speeches  on  Revolutionary 
Pensions  and  on  the  Tariff — Letter  to  Dr.  Andrew  Nich 
ols —  Letters  to  Prol'.  Ge'orge  Bush — The  Second  Session 
—  Georgia  and  the  Missionaries  to  the  Indians  —  Re-elected 
to  Congress  —  Speech  on  the  Removal  of  the  Deposits  — 
Resigns  his  Seat  —  Removes  to  Boston  —  Lecture  on  the 


averjey  Novels,"  and  on  "  The  JRomance  of  the  Sjea  " 
oThis  Youngest  Child. 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 
CHAPTER  III.  —  1841-1843      ........     65 

Professional  Advancement  —  Letters  to  Richard  S.  Storrs,  Jr. 
—  Chosen  Senator  in  place  of  Mr.  Webster  —  Death  of  Gen 
eral  Harrison  —  Eulogy  in  Faneuil  Hall  —  Extra  Session  of 
Congress  —  Speech_onthe  M'Leod  Case  —  The  Fiscal  Bank 
Bill  —  Collision  with~Mr7Clay  -^Nomination  of  Mr.  Everett 
as  Minister  to  England  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Simmer  —  Letters  to 
his  Son  —  The  next  Session  —  Speech  on  providing  furthej 
Jn^  the  United  States  Courts  —  Letters  to 


Mr.   Sumner  —  The  North  Eastern  Boundary  Quejstion  — 
Journal. 


CHAPTER  IV.  — 1843-1844 100 

Address  before  the  New  England  Society  of  New  York  — 

Letter   to    Prof.  Bush — Letters    to     Charles    Sumner  — 

Letter  to  his  Daughters  —  Sj>££ch  ftn  Orfgnn-^-  First  Speech 

on  the  Tariff—  SecondJJpeech,  in  Reply  to  Mr.  M/Duffie  — 

"Journal? 

CHAPTER  V.  — 1844-1845 127 

Political  Excitement  —  Speaks  for  Mr.  Clay  —  Meeting  of  Con 
gress  —  Diary  —  Annexation  of  Texas  —  Admission  of  Iowa 
and  Florida — Establishment  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution 
—  Library  Plan  —  Letters  to  Hon.  C.  W.  Upham  —  Illness 
of  Dr.  Sewall  —  Letter  to  Mrs.  Brinley. 

CHAPTER  VI.  — 1845-1849 151 

Address  before  the  Law  Scliool  in  Cambridge  —  Argues^the 
Case"  6t  ithode  Island  ~v.  Massachusetts  —  Defence  of  Tirrell 
— •  The  Oliver  Smith's  W  ill  Case  -^Speaks  in  favor  of  General 
Taylor — Ijrfer  of  a  I'rolessorship  in  the  Cambridge  _Law 
School  —  Offer  ojj^eatjaiponr  the  jBench-r-.Tiie  Phillips 
Will  Case^— jJojirnal. 

CHAPTER  VII.— 1850 200 

Change  of  Partnership —  Voyage  to  Europe  —  Letters  to  Mrs. 
Choate  —  Journal. 


CONTENTS.  XV 

PAQK 

CHAPTER  VIII.  — 1850-1855 231 

Political  Excitement  —  Union  Meetings  — Address  on  Wash 
ington,  February,  1851  —  The  Case  of  Fairchild  v.  Adams_z=- 
Address  before  the  "  Story  Association  "  —  Webster  Meet 
ing  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Nov.  1851 — Argues  an  India-Rubber 
Case  in  Trenton  —  Baltimore  Convention,  June,  1852  —  Ad- 
dress  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  Burlington,  Vt.  — 
Journey  to  Quebec  —  Death  of  Mr.  Webster  —  Letter  to  E. 
Jackson  —  Letter  to  Harvey  Jewell,  Esq.  —  Letter  to  Mrs. 
Eames  —  Offer  of  the  Attorney-Generalship  —  Convention 
to  revise  the  Constitution  of  Massachusetts  —  Eulogy  on 
Daniel  Webster  at  Dartmouth  College  —  Letter  to  his 
Daughter  —  .Letters  to  Mrs.  Eames — Letter  to  Mr.  Everett 

—  Letters  to  his  Son  —  Letters  to  his  Daughter  —  Address 
at  the  Dedication  of  the  Peabody  Institute,  September,  1854 

—  Letters  to  Mr.  Everett  —  Letter  to  Mrs.  Eames  — Accident 
and  Illness  —  Letters  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eames. 

CHAPTER   IX.  — 1855-1858 282 

Love  of  the  Union  —  Letter  to  the  Whig  Convention  at  Wor 
cester,  October,  1855  —  Letter  to  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins  — 
Lecture  on  the  Early  British  Poets  of  this  century,  March, 
1856  —  Sir  Walter  Scott  —  Political  Campaign  of  1856  — 
Determines  to  support  Mr.  Buchanan  —  Letter  to  the  Whigs 
of  Maine  —  Address  at  Lowell  —  Letter  to  J.  C.  Walsh  — 
Professional  position  —  His  Library  —  Lecture  on  The  Elo 
quence  of  Revolutionary  Periods,  February.  1857  — Defence 
ot  Mr srT5alton  —  Oration  before  the  Boston  Democratic 
Club,  July  4th,  1858. 

CHAPTER  X.— 1858-1859 .  334 

Failing  Health  —  Speech  at  the  Webster  Festival,  January, 
1859  —  Address  at  the  Essex  Street  Church  —  Last  Law  Case 

—  Goes  to  Dorchester  —  Occupations  —  Decides  to  go  to 
Europe  —  Letter  to  Hon.  Charles  Eames  —  Letter  to  Alfred 
Abbott,  Esq.  —  Sails   in    The   Europa  —  Illness  on  Board 

—  Lands  at  Halifax  —  Letter  from  Hon.  George  S.  Hillard 

—  Sudden  Death  —  Proceedings  of  Public  Bodies  —  Meet 
ing  of  the  Boston  Bar  —  Speeches  of  Hon.  C.  G.  Loring, 
R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  Judge  Curtis,  and  Judge  Sprague  —  Meet 
ing  in  Faneuil  Hall  —  Speech  of  Mr.  Everett  —  Funeral. 


xvi  CONTENTS. 

PAGK 

CHAPTER  XI 388 

Letter  from  Hon.  John  H.  Clifford  —  Reminiscences  of  Mr. 
rjinntp's  TTahits  in  his  Office  —  Thorough  Preparation  of 
Cases  —  Manner  of  Legal  Study  -^Intercourse  with  tlie 
younger  MemBers  of  tiie  Bar^—  Manner  to~tTTe  CourFancTthe 
Jury  —  Charges  and  Income  — Vocabulary— Wit  and  Humor 

—  Anecdotes  —  Eloquence  —  Style  —  Note  from  Kev.  Joseph 
Tracy  —  Memory  —  Quotations  —  Fondness    for   Books  — 
Reminiscences~by  a  .Friend  —  Life  at  Home  —  Conversation 

—  Religious  Feeling  and  BeHeFT" 


APPENDIX 459 

INDEX  465 


MEMOIR 


II  U  F  U  S     C  H  O  A  T  E, 


CHAPTER  I. 

1799-1830. 

Birth  of  Rufus  Choate — Ancestry  —  Boyhood  —  Account  by  his 
Brother  —  Studies  —  Characteristics  —  Enters  College  —  Rank  — 
Testimony  of  Classmates — Dartmouth  College  Case  —  Its  Influence 
on  his  Choice  of  a  Profession — Extract  from  Judge  Perley's 
Eulogy  —  Enters  Law  School  in  Cambridge  —  Goes  to  Washington 
and  studies  with  Mr.  Wirt  —  Death  of  his  Brother  Washington  — 
Returns  to  Essex  —  Admission  to  the  Bar  —  Testimony  of  Mr. 
Wirt  — Opens  an  Office  in  South  Danvers  —  Letter  to  James 
Marsh  —  Marriage  —  Success  —  Fidelity  to  Clients  —  Letter  from 
Judge  Shaw  —  Testimony  of  Hon.  Asahel  Huntington. 

IN  the  south-eastern  part  of  the  old  town  of  Ipswich, 
Mass.,  on  an  island  which  rises  in  its  centre  to  a  con 
siderable  elevation  and  commands  a  view  of  the  open 
ocean  and  the  neighboring  villages,  RUFUS  CHOATE  was 
born,  as  his  father,  with  ancient  precision,  recorded 
the  event  in  the  Family  Bible,  "  Tuesday,  Oct.  1, 1799, 
at  3  o'clock,  P.M."  He  was  the  second  son,  and  the 
fourth  of  six  children.  The  district  was  then  called 
Chebacco :  it  has  since  been  formed  into  a  separate 
town  bearing  the  name  of  Essex.  The  inhabitants,  for 
the  most  part  devoted  to  agriculture,  were  enterprising, 


2  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

frugal,  thrifty,  and  intelligent.  The  earliest  ancestor 
of-Mv'.' C'nbate  in  tins  country  was  John  Choate,  who 
took  the  oath  of  allegiance  in  1067.  From  him,  the 
subject  of  this  biographical  sketch  is  of  the  fifth  gener 
ation  by  direct  descent.  The  family  spread  widely  in 
Essex  County,  and  several  members  of  it  attained  to 
considerable  distinction.1 

The  paternal  grandmother  of  Mr.  Choate,  whose 
maiden  name  was  Mary  Giddings,  was  a  matron 
worthy  of  the  best  days  of  New  England.2  His 
father  was  David  Choate,  a  man  of  uncommon  intel 
lectual  endowments,  of  sound  and  independent  judg 
ment,  a  wise  counsellor,  sociable,  sagacious,  modest, 
keen,  and  witty.  He  was  held  in  high  estimation  as 
a  man  of  stability,  unswerving  integrity,  and  weight 
of  character,  and  was  often  chosen  to  fill  places  of 
responsibility  and  trust. 

On  one  occasion,  as  administrator  on  the  estate  of 
his  uncle,  John  Choate,  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  Boston 
to  look  after  a  case  in  court.  At  the  trial,  the  counsel 
upon  whom  he  had  relied  failed  to  appear.  Mr.  Choate 
thereupon  asked  that  the  cause  might  be  continued. 

1  In   1741,  John  Choate,  Esq.,  was   a  member  of  the  House   of 
Representatives  for  Ipswich,  and  was  elected  Speaker ;  but  the  election 
was   negatived  by  Governor  Belcher.      He   continued  a  prominent 
member  of  the  House  —  his  name  appearing  on  many  important  com 
mittees —  till  1761,  when  he  was  elected  into  the  Board  of  Councillors, 
(who  were  then  what  both  the  Senate  and  Council  now  are  in  Mas 
sachusetts),  to  which  responsible  position  he  was  re-elected  every  suc 
cessive  year  till  1766. 

2  Her  courage  is  indicated  by  an  anecdote  told  of  her,  that  in  the 
war  of  the  Revolution,  when  all  the  men  left  the  island,  driving  to 
the  uplands  the  herds  of  cattle  which  would  otherwise  have  offered  a 
tempting  prize  to  the  British  cruisers,  she,  with  her  two  small  chil 
dren,  remained  fearless  upon  the  farm. 


1799-1830.]  EARLY  LIFE.  O 

On  stating  the  matter  as  clearly  as  lie  could,  the 
judge,  after  a  little  consultation,  said  to  him,  "I  think 
you  understand  the  case,  Mr.  Choate,  and  we  can 
manage  it  together.  You  had  better  conduct  it  your 
self."  Thus  unexpectedly  summoned  to  the  bar,  after 
some  hesitation  he  called  his  witnesses,  made  his  ar 
gument,  and  obtained  a  verdict. 

There  is  a  report,  which  seems  to  rest  on  good  au 
thority,  that  at  the  time  of  the  ratification  of  the  Fed 
eral  Constitution  in  Massachusetts  he  wrote  several 
articles  for  a  Boston  newspaper  in  favor  of  that  meas 
ure,  under  the  signature  of  "  Farmer,"  some  of  which 
were  currently  ascribed  to  Theophilus  Parsons,  already 
an  eminent  lawyer,  and  afterwards  Chief  Justice  of 
the  State.  Mr.  Choate  died  in  1808,  before  his  son 
had  attained  his  ninth  year. 

The  mother  of  Rufus  was  Miriam  Foster,  a  quiet, 
sedate,  but  cheerful  woman,  dignified  in  manner,  quick 
in  perception,  of  strong  sense  and  ready  wit.  Her 
son  was  said  to  resemble  her  in  many  characteristics 
of  mind  and  person.  She  lived  to  see  his  success  and 
enjoy  his  fame,  and  died  in  1853,  at  the  venerable  age 
of  eighty-one. 

When  his  son  was  about  six  months  old,  Mr.  David 
Choate  removed  from  the  island  to  the  village  on  the 
mainland,  about  three  miles  distant,  but  still  retained 
the  old  homestead.  It  had  been  in  possession  of  the 
family  for  four  generations,  and  for  more  than  a  hun 
dred  years,  and  is  still  owned  by  an  older  brother  of 
Mr.  Choate.1  An  arm  of  the  sea  flows  pleasantly 
about  it,  and  a  little  creek  runs  up  to  within  twenty 
rods  of  the  old  dwelling,  which  stands  on  the  hill- 

1  Hon.  David  Choate. 


MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

side,  hardly  changed  from  what  it  was  sixty  years 
since,  of  two  stories,  heavy-timbered,  low-roomed, 
with  beams  across  the  ceiling,  bare  and  weather- 
beaten,  but  with  a  cheerful  southerly  outlook  towards 
the  marshes,  the  sea,  and  the  far-off  rocky  shore  of 
Cape  Ann. 

The  new  residence  still  commanded  a  view  of  the 
ocean.  The  little  village  was  the  head  of  navigation  for 
a  species  of  fishing-craft  much  built  there,  known  along 
the  coast  as  "  Chebacco  boats."  Frequent  excursions 
to  the  old  farm  were,  of  course,  necessary ;  and  these 
little  voyages  down  the  river  which  forces  its  crooked 
way  through  the  salt  marshes,  were  generally  made  in 
a  canoe  dug  out  of  a  solid  log.  During  the  war  of 
1812,  the  English  and  American  cruisers  were  fre 
quently  seen  in  the  bay.  On  one  occasion  especially, 
the  "  Tenedos  "  and  "  Shannon,"  tall  and  beautiful, 
"  sitting  like  two  swans  upon  the  water,"  were  watched 
from  the  shore  with  great  interest,  and  by  none  with 
more  concentrated  gaze  than  by  the  boy  Rufus.  All 
these  circumstances,  —  the  murmur  of  the  sea  which 
lulled  him  to  sleep,  the  rage  of  the  ocean  in  a  storm, 
the  white  sails  in  the  distant  harbor,  the  boats  which 
went  out  of  the  river  and  never  returned,  the  stories 
of  adventures  and  perils,  —  naturally  tended  to  stimu 
late  his  imagination,  to  cherish  that  love  of  the  sea 
which  became  almost  a  passion,  and  which  so  often 
shows  itself  in  his  speeches  and  writings.  To  the 
last,  he  thought  that  to  be  a  sea-captain  was  "  emi 
nently  respectable."  Accounts  of  naval  battles  he 
read  with  the  greatest  eagerness  ;  and  many  were  the 
mimic  contests  on  land  to  which  they  gave  birth. 
"  I  well  remeunber,"  says  his  brother,  "  his  acting  over 


1799-1830.]  EARLY  LIFE.  5 

certain  parts  of  a  sea-fight  with  other  boys,  he  telling 
them  what  to  do,  how  to  load,  at  what  to  aim,  not  how 
to  strike  a  flag  (that  never  seemed  to  come  into  the 
category),  but  how  to  nail  one  to  the  mast,  with  orders 
to  let  it  wave  while  he  lived.  Many  of  his  chimney- 
corner  sports  had  relation  to  either  naval  or  land 
engagements.  I  remember  that  while  he  and  Wash 
ington1  were  waiting  for  the  family  to  breakfast,  dine, 
or  sup  (that  was  the  way  the  children  were  then 
taught  to  do),  one  would  have  the  dog  and  the  other 
the  cat,  each  holding  it  fast;  and,  at  the  signal,  bring 
ing  them  suddenly  together,  in  imitation  of  two  hostile 
ships  or  armies,  Rufus,  in  the  mean  time,  repeating  the 
story  of  a  real  or  imagined  fight  witli  as  much  volubility 
as  he  ever  afterwards  used  in  court,  and  with  such  an 
arrangement  of  the  plan  of  the  fight  as  made  all  seem 
wonderfully  real." 

Scenes  of  military  and  naval  life  fastened  strongly 
upon  his  imagination.  He  often  said  that  nothing  ever 
made  a  deeper  impression  upon  his  boyish  mind  than 
the  burial  of  an  officer  with  military  honors,  and  the 
volleys  fired  over  his  grave.  In  August,  1813,  he  went 
to  Salem  to  witness  the  ceremony  of  the  reinterment 
of  the  bodies  of  Capt.  James  Lawrence  and  Lieut. 
Augustus  C.  Ludlow,  who  were  killed  on  board  the 
"  Chesapeake,"  and  were  at  first  buried  at  Halifax. 
Although  he  could  not  hear  Judge  Story's  Eulogy,  he 
made  his  brother  repeat  to  him  all  that  he  could 
remember  of  it.  The  opening  sentence,  "  Welcome 
to  their  native  shores  be  the  remains  of  our  departed 
heroes, "  especially  filled  him  with  ecstasy.  It  is  not 
surprising,  then,  that  the  dreams  of  his  early  ambition 

1  His  younger  brother. 


6  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

should  have  been  of  braving  the  perils  of  the  sea,  or 
commanding  a  man-of-war. 

His  constitution  was  vigorous,  and  in  all  the  sports 
of  boyhood  he  was  more  than  a  match  for  his  com 
panions,  spending  as  many  hours  as  any  one  upon  the 
play-ground,  and  tiring  out  almost  all  his  competitors 
by  his  activity  and  skill.  In  the  necessary  labor  of  the 
farm  he  was  equally  diligent  and  faithful.  A  man  is 
now  living  with  whom  lie  once  worked  in  laying  a 
stone  wall,  and  who  thought  it  a  pity  that  so  strong 
and  active  a  lad  should  be  sent  to  college,  but  par 
doned  it,  when  really  determined  upon,  because  he 
worked  so  well. 

"  Even  in  doing  field-work,"  says  his  brother,  "  if  the 
nature  of  the  employment  could  possibly  admit  of  it, 
he  would  get  up  some  excitement  to  enliven  the  hour. 
Thus,  in  the  laborious  occupation  of  building  the  wall, 
or  digging  and  hauling  stone  preparatory  to  it,  he  was 
the  favorite  of  the  master-workmen.  Although  no  part 
of  the  labor  was  such  as  admitted  of  much  haste,  yet 
the  wall-builder  would  often  refer  to  these  occasions 
after  my  brother  began  to  figure  a  little  in  life,  to  tell 
how  springy  he  was  about  his  work;  how  he  would 
jump  to  hook  or  unhook  the  chain,  to  start  or  stop  the 
team,  hand  a  crowbar,  clap  a  bait  (as  it  is  called  in 
New  England)  under  the  lever ;  and  how  he  would 
shout  when  the  rock  started  from  its  bed  and  reached 
the  surface,  or  its  place  in  the  wall.  A  single  remark 
once  made  by  him,  while  at  work  as  above,  goes  to  show 
that  even  then,  as  he  had  just  got  under  way  in  Latin, 
he  sometimes  glanced  a  thought  forward  to  the  future  : 
thus,  'Mr.  N.  (to  the  wall-builder),  if  ever  Tin  a 
lawyer,  I'll  plead  all  your  cases  for  nothing.'  ' 


1799-1830.J  EARLY  LIFE.  f 

An  intense  love  of  reading  and  of  knowledge  in 
general  was  early  developed.  Before  be  was  six  years 
old,  he  had  devoured  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
used  afterwards  to  gather  his  companions  and  rehearse 
it  to  them  from  memory.  Bunyan  was  always  a  great 
favorite.  But  a  few  years  before  he  died,  he  borrowed 
from  his  brother  the  old  volume,  with  its  quaint  pic 
tures  and  soiled  pages,  which  brought  back  so  much 
of  his  childhood.  Another  book,  of  a  different  kind, 
which  he  used  to  read  with  the  greatest  avidity,  was  a 
worn  and  well-thumbed  copy  of  the  u  Life  of  Maurice, 
Count  Saxe,"  from  which  a  year  or  two  since  he 
repeated  page  after  page,  to  the  surprise  and  amuse 
ment  of  some  of  his  family  by  whom  a  question  had 
been  started  with  reference  to  the  battle  of  Fontenoy. 
"  Marshal  Saxe  at  the  Opera  "  (accenting  the  second 
syllable  according  to  his  boyish  habit)  used  long  to  be 
one  of  the  playful  phrases  in  use  between  himself  and 
his  children. 

The  apparent  ease  with  which  he  mastered  the  con 
tents  of  a  book  has  been  the  subject  of  remark.  This 
characteristic  was  as  noticeable,  perhaps,  in  childhood 
as  any  other.  Dr.  Sewall,  his  brother-in-law,  took  the 
numbers  of  the  Edinburgh  Encyclopaedia,  which  came 
uncut  and  half-bound.  Rufus  used  to  offer  to  cut  the 
leaves,  and  even  begged  to  do  it.  The  truth  was,  that 
while  doing  it,  and  even  while  conversing  with  others, 
he  would  run  his  eye  over  the  articles  which  interested 
him  ;  and,  as  the  doctor  said,  "  he  knew  more  about  the 
book  by  the  time  the  leaves  were  cut,  than  he  (the 
doctor)  was  likely  to  know  for  a  long  time." 

His  tenacity  of  memory  was  equally  remarkable,  so 
that  to  his  friends  he  seemed  to  remejoaber  about  all 


8  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

that  he  read.  Years  after  indeed,  while  a  member 
of*  college,  he  would  take  a  book  into  his  sleeping- 
chamber  and  look  over  a  chapter  the  last  thing  before 
retiring,  and  then  on  awakening  in  the  morning,  with 
out  looking  at  the  page,  would  repeat  it  to  his  brother, 
handing  him  the  book  to  look  over  and  see  if  he  re 
peated  correctly.  Nor  were  these  voluntary  trials 
selected  from  poetry  or  fiction  or  narratives  merely,  but 
sometimes,  at  least  as  his  brother  remembers,  from 
such  condensed  and  weighty  writings  as  John  Foster's 
essay  on  "  Decision  of  Character." 

The  village  library  of  a  few  hundred  volumes,  con 
taining  such  works  as  "  Rollings  Ancient  History," 
"  Joseplms,"  "  Plutarch,"  "  Telemachus,"  and  "  Hutch- 
inson's  History  of  .Massachusetts,"  he  had  pretty  nearly 
exhausted  before  he  was  ten  years  old.  During  all 
these  early  years  the  Bible  was  read  and  re-read 
with  more  than  ordinary  thoughtfulness ;  and  early  in 
the  war  of  1812,  he  made  what  he  thought  was  the 
great  discovery  of  an  undoubted  prophecy  of  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  in  the  Book  of  Daniel.  He  was,  at  the 
same  time,  an  attentive  and  critical  hearer  of  ser 
mons,  even  if  the  minister  was  dull.  "  When  about 
nine  years  old,"  says  his  brother,  "  he  took  us  all 

by  surprise   one  Sabbath  noon,  by  saying  '  Mr. 

(naming  the  preacher)  had  better  mind  what  he  says 
about  James  (the  apostle),  even  James,'  repeating  the 
words  emphatically.  The  minister  had  been  quoting 
Paul,  and  added,  '  even  James  says,  For  what  is  your 
life?'  The  remark  went  to  show  us — the  family  — 
not  only  that  he  had  attended  to  what  had  been  said 
(which  we  had  not  done),  but  that  he  saw  an  objec 
tion  to  the  comparison,  implied  at  least,  between  the 


1799-1830.]  EARLY  LIFE.  9 

two  apostles,  both  of  whom  were  inspired,  and  conse 
quently  that  the  inspiration  of  James  must  have  been 
as  good  as  that  of  Paul,  because  of  the  same  origin  in 
both." 

He  was  remarkable  during  his  youth  for  the  same 
sweetness  of  temper,  and  quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous, 
which  he  carried  with  him  through  life.  He  was  easily 
persuaded  to  a  particular  course  of  conduct,  by  his 
mother  or  sisters,  and  could  not  bear  to  grieve  them, 
and  so  in  all  differences  between  them,  if  he  could  not 
carry  his  point  by  good-natured  pleasantry,  he  would 
yield  with  the  best  grace  in  the  world.  By  the  same 
humor,  he  sometimes  warded  off  reproof,  even  when 
justly  merited.  An  older  sister  was  once  beginning  to 
admonish  him  for  something  which  he  had  done,  which 
was  clearly  wrong.  He  saw  it  coming  and  was  de 
termined  to  break  the  force  of  it.  While  she  was 
bestowing  the  rebuke  with  the  earnestness  which  the 
offence  seemed  to  deserve,  happening  to  raise  her  eyes, 
she  saw  him  standing  with  his  right  hand  up  by  the 
side  of  his  head,  in  the  attitude  of  a  person  to  whom  an 
oath  is  administered,  and  with  a  face  of  extraordinary 
demureness  and  solemnity.  The  sight  of  him  in  this 
roguish  position  put  an  end  at  once  to  the  lecture  and 
to  the  feeling  which  prompted  it.  The  loudest  of 
laughs  ended  the  scene. 

In  all  boyish  sports  and  studies,  his  companions 
were  few :  the  most  intimate  of  them  all  was  his  brother 
Washington,  a  little-  more  than  three  years  younger 
than  himself.  Although  during  his  early  youth  neither 
of  his  parents  were  members  of  the  church,  the  moral 
discipline  of  the  family  was  careful  and  exact.  A  por 
tion  of  the  "  Assembly's  Catechism  "  was  recited  every 


10  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

Sabbath,  and  the  lessons  thus  learned  were  so  deeply 
engraven  on  his  memory  as  never  to  be  forgotten.  On 
one  occasion  in  later  life,  in  commenting  upon  the 
testimony  of  a  witness  who  professed  his  willingness 
to  do  any  job  that  might  offer  on  Sunday,  just  as  he 
would  on  any  other  day,  Mr.  Choate  repeated,  word  for 
word,  one  of  the  long  answers  of  that  venerable  symbol 
on  the  import  of  the  fourth  commandment,  and  then 
turning  to  the  Court,  said,  "  May  it  please  your  Honor, 
my  mother  taught  me  this  in  my  earliest  childhood, 
and  I  trust  I  shall  not  forget  it  in  my  age." 

Mr.  Choate  was  favored  in  his  childhood  with  some 
excellent  friends  beyond  the  circle  of  his  own  relatives. 
Among  these  was  the  now  venerable  Dr.  R.  D.  Mussey, 
who  commenced  the  practice  of  the  profession  in  which 
he  afterwards  became  so  eminent,  in  Essex,  and  for 
several  years  resided  in  the  family  of  Mr.  David  Choate. 
At  the  age  of  ten  years,  Rufus  began  the  study  of 
Latin,  under  the  instruction  of  Dr.  Thomas  Sewall,1 
who  had  taken  Dr.  Mussey's  place.  He  continued  his 
studies  for  a  few  months,  yearly,  during  the  next  six 
years,  under  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  Rev.  Mr. 
Holt,  or  the  teachers  of  the  district  school.  Among 
these  should  be  mentioned  Rev.  Dr.  William  Cogswell, 
who  taught  the  school  during  the  successive  winters  of 
his  Junior  and  Senior  years  in  college. 

These  opportunities,  of  course,  afforded  the  young 
student  a  very  imperfect  discipline,  but  they  served  in 
some  degree  to  stimulate  his  mind,  while  teaching  him 
the  necessity  of  self-reliance  and  independent  exertion. 

1  Dr.  Sewall  afterward  married  Mr.  Choate's  oldest  sister,  and  sub 
sequently  removed  to  Washington,  D.C.,  where  he  was  long  known  as 
an  eminent  physician. 


1799-1830.]  EARLY  LIFE. 

Certain  it  is  that  with  his  poor  chances  he  accomplished 
more  than  most  others  with  the  best.  He  meditated 
upon  what  he  read,  and  treasured  up  the  fruits  in  a 
retentive  memory.  His  imagination  even  then  pic 
tured  the  scenes  of  ancient  story,  and  transferred  the 
fictions  of  Homer  and  Virgil  to  the  shores  of  Essex. 
"  There,"  said  he,  pointing  out  a  rocky,  cavernous 
knoll  to  his  son-in-law,  as  they  were  riding  a  few  years 
since  from  Ipswich  to  Essex,  "  there  is  the  descent  to 
Avernus."  This  habit  of  making  the  scenes  of  poetry 
and  history  real,  of  vivifying  them  through  his  imagi 
nation,  was  one  which  followed  him  through  life,  and 
contributed  largely  to  his  power  as  an  orator.  Some 
thing  allied  to  this  is  that  touch  of  human  sympathy 
for  inanimate  objects,  of  which  Dr.  Adams  speaks  in 
his  Funeral  Address.  When  as  a  boy  he  drove  his 
father's  cow,  "  he  has  said  that  more  than  once,  when 
he  had  thrown  away  his  switch,  he  has  returned  to  find 
it,  and  has  carried  it  back,  and  thrown  it  under  the 
tree  from  which  he  took  it,  for,  he  said, '  Perhaps  there 
is,  after  all,  some  yearning  of  nature  between  them 
still.' " 

By  way  of  completing  his  preparation  for  college  he 
was  sent,  in  January,  1815,  to  the  academy  in  Hamp 
ton,  N.H.,  of  which  James  Adams  was  then  the  princi 
pal.  Here  he  remained  till  summer  when  he  entered 
the  Freshman  class  in  Dartmouth  College,  near  the 
close  of  his  sixteenth  year.  His  classmates  remember 
him  as  a  diffident,  modest,  beautiful  boy,  the  youngest 
in  the  class  with  two  exceptions,  singularly  attractive 
in  person  and  manner,  of  a  delicate  frame,  with  dark 
curling  hair,  a  fresh,  ruddy  complexion,  a  beautifully 
ingenuous  countenance,  his  movements  marked  with  a 


12  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

natural  grace  and  vivacity,  and  his  mind  from  the  first 
betraying  the  spirit  of  a  scholar. 

"  There  he  brought,"  says  one  of  his  eulogists,1  "  a 
mind  burning  with  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  which  death 
alone  had  power  to  quench,  kindled  with  aspirations 
lofty,  but  as  yet  undefined  and  vague,  and  stocked  with 
an  amount  of  general  information  quite  remarkable  for 
his  years  ;  a  physical  constitution  somewhat  yielding 
and  pliant,  of  great  nervous  sensibility,  but  equalled 
by  few  for  endurance  and  elastic  strength.  He  came 
pure  from  every  taint  of  vice,  generous,  enthusiastic, 
established  in  good  principles,  good  habits,  and  good 
health."  The  necessary  imperfection  of  his  fitting  for 
college,  and  his  own  modesty,  prevented,  in  a  measure, 
the  full  recognition  of  his  ability  during  the  first  term 
of  his  residence  at  Dartmouth.  But  the  deficiency,  if 
it  were  one,  was  soon  supplied.  He  acquired  knowl 
edge  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  His  memory  was 
very  retentive ;  the  command  of  his  faculties,  and  his 
power  of  concentration,  perfect.  "  His  perception  of 
the  truths  of  a  new  lesson,"  says  one  of  his  class 
mates,  "  and  their  connection  and  relation  to  other 
truths  already  familiar  to  him,  was  so  intuitive  and 
rapid,  that  I  have  yet  to  learn  of  the  first  man  who 
could  study  a  new  subject  in  company  with  him,  and 
not  prove  a  clog  and  an  incumbrance."  At  the  same 
time  he  was  a  most  diligent  and  faithful  student. 

"  I  entered  the  class,"  writes  another  member  of  it,2 
"  in  the  spring  of  the  Freshman  year,  when  its  mem- 

1  Hon.  Ira  Perley,  lately  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  New 
Hampshire,  in  a  eulogy  pronounced  at  Dartmouth  College,  July  25, 
I860. 

2  E.  C.  Tracy,  for  many  years  editor  of  the  "  Vermont  Chronicle." 


1799-1830.]  COLLEGE  LIFE.  13 

bers  had  already  joined  the  societies  and  found  their 
affinities.  ...  I  was  acquainted  with  some  members  of 
the  class  before  I  entered  college,  and  remember  mak 
ing  natural  inquiries  in  the  winter  vacation,  about  the 
associates  I  should  find  in  it.     Several  were  named  as 
having   taken   high   rank    during   the  fall    term,  but 
Choate  was  not  mentioned.     I  was  the  more  struck 
therefore,  at  the  first  recitation,  as  I  watched  each  suc 
cessive  voice  with  the  keen  curiosity  of  a  new-comer, 
when  Choate  got  up,  and  in  those  clear  musical  tones 
put  Livy's  Latin  into  such  exquisitely  fit  and  sweet 
English,  as  I  had  not  dreamed  of,  and  in  comparison 
with  which  all  the  other  construing  of  that  morning 
.seemed  the  roughest  of  unlicked  babble.     After  the 
first  sentence  or  two,  I  had  no  doubt  who  was  the  first 
classical  scholar  among  us,  or  who  had  the  best  com 
mand  of  English.     I  was  on  one  side  of  the  room  and 
he  on  the  other,  and  I  remember  as  if  but  yesterday, 
his  fresh,  personal  beauty,  and  all  the  graceful  charm 
of  modest,  deferential  look -and  tone  that  accompanied 
the  honeyed  words.  .  .  .  The  impression  that  his  first 
words  made  upon  me  was  peculiar  ;  and  nothing,  lit 
erally  nothing,  while  in  college  or  since,  ever  came 
from  him  to  disturb  the  affectionate  admiration,  with 
which  in  the  old  recitation-room,  in  the  presence  of 
Tutor  Bond,  I  first  heard  his  voice,  his  words,  his  sen 
tences, —  all,  even  then,  so  exquisite  in  their  expres 
sion  of  genius  and  scholarly  accomplishments.     I  have 
always  felt  my  connection  with  that  class  as  a  peculiar 
felicity  of  my  college  life ;  and  to  us  all  Choate's  com 
panionship  through  the  four  years  was  a  blessing  and 
an  honor." 

What  was  thus  begun,  he  carried  through  to  the  end. 


14  MEMOIR   OF  KUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

As  early  as  his  Sophomore  year  he  entered  upon  a 
course  of  thorough,  systematic  study,  not  with  the  ob 
ject  of  excelling  his  classmates,  but  to  satisfy  the  ideal 
of  excellence  which  filled  his  own  mind.  He  never, 
while  in  college,  mingled  very  freely  in  the  sports  of 
the  play-ground,  and  yet  was  never  a  recluse.  His 
door  was  always  open  to  any  one  who  called  to  see 
him.  But  his  example  did  much  to  set  the  standard 
of  scholarship,  and  to  impart  a  noble  and  generousv 

spirit  to  the  class  and  the  college.  ) 

The  years  that  Mr.  Choate  spent  at  Dartmouth  were 
among  the  most  critical  in  the  history  of  that  institu 
tion.  A  difficulty  of  many  years'  standing,  between 
President  John  Wheelock  and  the  Board  of  Trustees, 
culminated  in  1815  in  his  deposition  from  office,  and 
the  election  of  another  President  in  his  place.  The 
question  soon  became  involved  in  the  politics  of  the 
State,  and  the  legislature,  in  June,  1816,  passed  an 
act  incorporating  an  adverse  institution,  called  the 
Dartmouth  University,  and  granting  to  it  the  seal,  the 
libraries,  the  buildings,  and  the  revenues  of  the  college. 
New  officers  were  appointed,  and  a  small  number  of 
students  collected.  The  trustees  denied  the  constitu 
tional  power  of  the  legislature  to  pass  such  an  act,  and 
carried  the  case  before  the  legal  tribunals.  In  Novem 
ber,  1817,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State  decided 
against  them.  The  college  was  without  buildings, 
without  libraries,  without  apparatus,  without  resources. 
The  recitations  were  held  wherever  rooms  could  be 
found  in  the  village.  A  President,  two  Professors, 
and  one  or  two  Tutors,  performed  the  whole  duty  of 
instruction  and  government.  The  public  mind  was 
profoundly  agitated  with  hopes  and  fears,  in  which  the 


1799-1830.]  COLLEGE  LIFE.  15 

students  largely  shared.  From  the  decision  of  the 
State  Court,  an  appeal  was  taken  to  the  Supreme  Court 
at  Washington.  A  question  of  local  interest  spread 
itself  to  dimensions  of  national  importance.  Jeremiah 
Mason,  Jeremiah  Smith,  Daniel  Webster,  and  Francis 
Hopkinson  were  counsel  for  the  College.  John  Holmes 
and  William  Wirt,  for  the  University.  The  minds  of 
the  students  were  stimulated  by  the  unusual  circum 
stances,  and  probably  there  never  was  a  time  in  the 
history  of  the  college,  when  a  spirit  of  study,  of  order, 
and  of  fidelity  to  every  duty,  more  thoroughly  pervaded 
the  whole  body,  than  when  there  were  hardly  any 
means  of  enforcing  obedience,  and  the  very  existence 
of  the  institution  depended  upon  the  doubtful  decision 
of  a  legal  question.  The  contest  itself  imparted  a 
sense  of  reality  and  practicalness  to  the  college  life, 
and  a  desire  of  high  attainment  and  honorable  action 
seemed  to  be  the  pervading  spirit  of  the  community  of 
students.  It  was  during  this  period  that  Mr.  Choate's 
mind  was,  by  several  circumstances,  decisively  turned 
to  the  law  as  a  profession.  He  probably  heard  Judge 
Smith,  Mr.  Mason,  and  Mr.  Webster  in  their  defence 
of  the  college  at  Exeter  in  September,  1817.  "  He  cer 
tainly  heard  Webster  in  the  celebrated  trial  of  the 
Kennistons  at  Ipswich,  in  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year."  In  the  college,  there  existed  at  this  time  two 
rival  literary  societies,  The  Social  Friends  and  The 
United  Fraternity,  each  possessing  a  small  but  valuable 
library.  On  the  plea  of  preserving  these  libraries, 
some  of  the  officers  of  the  University  determined  to 
remove  them  from  the  college  building.  Not  having 
the  keys,  the  door  of  The  Social  Friends  was  broken 
in  by  a  number  of  persons,  headed  and  directed  by  an 


16  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

officer  of  the  University,  and  preparations  made  for 
carrying  away  the  books.  They  had  hardly  entered 
before  the  students  of  both  societies,  exasperated  at 
the  unexpected  attack,  rallied  for  a  defence  of  their 
property.  The  band  which  had  entered  the  room  was 
at  once  imprisoned  in  it,  and  finally  disarmed  and  con 
ducted  to  their  several  homes.  Mr.  Choate  was  then 
librarian  of  the  society  whose  property  was  invaded, 
and  as  a  result  of  the  proceedings  in  which  he  bore 
some  share,  found  himself  with  several  fellow-students, 
summoned  the  next  day  before  a  pliant  justice  of  the 
peace,  who  bound  them  all  over  to  take  their  trial  be 
fore  a  superior  court  on  the  charge  of  riot.  Their  ac 
cusers  were  also  arraigned  before  another  justice,  and 
bound  over  to  answer  to  the  same  tribunal.  To  the 
court  they  went  at  Haverhill.  The  most  eminent  law 
yers  iu  the  State  then  practised  in  Grafton  County. 
The  case  never  came  to  a  hearing,  the  Grand  Jury 
finding  no  bill  against  the  parties ;  but  the  appearance 
of  the  court,  —  Chief  Justice  Richardson,  Judge  Bell, 
and  Judge  Woodbury  upon  the  bench,  —  and  the  emi 
nent  legal  ability  of  the  bar,  where  were  such  lawyers 
as  George  Sullivan,  Jeremiah  Mason,  Jeremiah  Smith, 
Richard  Fletcher,  Ichabod  Bartlett,  Ezekiel  Webster, 
and  Joseph  Bell,  might  be  presumed  to  impress  a  mind 
much  less  susceptible  of  such  influences  than  was  Mr. 
Choate's. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Webster  made  his  great 
argument  for  the  college,  on  the  10th  of  March,  1818. 
All  these  circumstances,  and  perhaps  especially  the 
laurels  won  by  Mr.  WTebster  in  that  effort,  directed 
the  young  student's  attention  to  the  advantages,  the 
attractions,  and  the  grandeur  of  that  profession  in 


1799-1830.]  COLLEGE  LIFE.  17 

which  he  was  destined  to  attain  such  eminence. 
"  The  victory  of  Miltiades  would  not  suffer  him  to 
sleep."  "  The  Dartmouth  College  case,"  says  a  dis 
tinguished  statesman,1  "  was  almost  the  first  legal 
controversy  which  brought  into  view  the  relations  of 
the  judiciary  and  the  bar  to  the  great  interests  of 
American  learning.  The  questions  involved  in  it  were 
generally  thought  vitally  important  to  the  cause  of  edu 
cation  in  its  highest  and  most  liberal  aspects,  and  the 
discussion  of  them  established  a  harmony  and  excited 
a  sympathy  between  two  vocations  before  thought 
almost  antagonistic,  —  the  academic  and  the  forensic, 
—  which  was  not  without  favorable  results  to  both  of 
them." 

While  Mr.  Choate  was  a  member  of  college,  there 
were  in  the  classes  a  larger  number  of  students  than 
usual  distinguished  for  breadth  and  thoroughness  of 
scholarship,  as  they  have  been  since  for  honorable 
positions  in  literature  and  in  society.  With  some  of 
these  he  formed  friendships  which  terminated  only 
with  their  lives.  By  all  who  knew  him  then  he  was 
ever  remembered  for  his  warm  and  generous  sensi 
bilities,  his  open,  balmy  kindness,  as  well  as  for  his 
influence  over  the  younger  students,  and  his  readiness 
to  help  them.  After  having  decided  upon  his  pro 
fession,  his  desire  was  to  become  a  national  man.  The 
Country,  the  Union  of  the  States,  the  Fathers  of  the 
Republic, —  these  words  were  frequently  in  his  mouth. 
General  literature,  which  before  had  been  an  end  with 
him,  now  became  but  the  means  for  the  accomplish 
ment  of  the  purpose  to  which  he  had  consecrated  his 
life.  All  pursuits,  whether  of  elegant  learning  or  of 

1  Hon.  George  P.  Marsh. 
2 


18  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

graver  non-professional  knowledge,  were  made  but 
adjuncts  and  auxiliaries.  Nor  was  it  in  scholarship 
more  than  in  the  power  of  using  his  acquisitions  that 
he  excelled.  In  the  classics,  in  history,  and  general 
literature,  he  read  far  beyond  the  requirements  of  the 
curriculum,  but  knowledge  never  outran  the  power 
of  thought.  His  intellectual  growth  was  sound  and 
healthful.  Chief  Justice  Perley  says  of  him  (in  his 
eulogy),  with  reference  to  this  and  some  kindred 
points : — 

"  It  was  not  merely  in  scholarship,  in  knowledge  of 
books,  and  literary  attainments  that  he  then  stood 
high  above  all  competition  and  rivalry.  He  was  even 
then  far  less  distinguished  for  the  amount  of  his  ac 
quisitions,  than  for  vigor  and  grasp  of  mind,  for  the 
discipline  and  training  wrhich  gave  him  complete  com 
mand  of  himself  and  all  that  he  knew.  He  was  already 
remarkable  for  the  same  brilliant  qualities  which  dis 
tinguished  him  in  his  subsequent  career.  To  those 
who  knew  him  then,  and  watched  his  onward  course, 
little  change  was  observable  in  his  style  of  writing, 
or  in  his  manner  of  speaking,  except  such  as  would 
naturally  be  required  by  subjects  of  a  wider  range  and 
more  exciting  occasions.  His  judgment  seemed  already 
manly  and  mature.  He  comprehended  his  subject 
then,  as  he  did  afterwards,  in  all  its  bearings  and 
relations  ;  looked  all  through  it  with  the  same  deep 
and  searching  glance,  had  the  same  richness  and 
fulness  of  style,  and  the  same  felicitous  command  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  expressive  language,  the  same 
contagious  fervor  of  manner,  and  the  same  strange 
fascination  of  eye  and  voice,  which  on  a  wider  stage 
made  him  in  later  life  one  of  the  most  powerful  and 
persuasive  orators  which  our  country  has  produced. 


1799-1830.]  COLLEGE  LIFE.  19 

"  I  entered  college  at  the  commencement  of  his 
Senior  year,  and  can  myself  bear  witness  to  the  su 
premacy  which  he  then  held  here,  in  the  unanimous 
judgment  of  his  fellow-students.  No  other  man  was 
ever  mentioned  in  comparison  with  him.  His  public 
college  exercises  were  of  a  very  uncommon  character. 
Unless  I  was  greatly  misled  by  a  boyish  judgment  at 
the  time,  or  am  strangely  deceived  by  looking  at  them 
through  the  recollections  of  forty  years,  no  college 
exercises  of  an  undergraduate  that  I  have  ever  heard 
are  at  all  worthy  to  be  compared  with  them,  for  beauty 
of  style,  for  extent  and  variety  of  illustration,  for 
breadth  and  scope,  and  for  manly  comprehension  of  the 
subject.  At  this  distance  of  time,  I  well  remember 
every  public  exercise  performed  by  him  while  I  was  a 
member.  I  have  heard  him  often  since,  and  on  some 
of  the  occasions  when  he  is  understood  to  have  made 
the  most  successful  displays  of  his  eloquence  ;  I  heard 
him  when  he  stood  upon  this  spot  to  pronounce  his 
eulogy  on  Webster,  which  has  been  considered,  on 
authority  from  which,  on  such  a  question,  there  lies  no 
appeal,  to  be  unequalled  among  the  performances  of  its 
class  in  this  country,  and  I  can  sincerely  say  that 
nothing  I  have  ever  heard  from  him  in  the  maturity 
and  full  growth  of  his  powers,  has  produced  upon  me 
a  deeper  impression,  or  filled  me  at  the  time  witli  a 
more  absorbing  and  rapt  sensation  of  delight,  than 
those  college  exercises. 

"  His  Honor,  Mr.  Justice  Nesmith,  in  his  remarks 
made  here  at  the  last  Commencement,  spoke  of  Mr. 
Choate's  address  as  President  of  the  Social  Friends,  to 
certain  Freshmen  who  were  admitted  to  the  Society  in 
the  first  term  of  the  year  1818.  I  was  one  of  those 


20  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

Freshmen,  and  shall  never  forget  the  effect  produced 
by  that  address.  I  remember,  too,  what  Mr.  Nesmith 
is  more  likely  to  have  forgotten,  that  on  the  same 
evening  there  was  a  high  discussion  in  the  Society 
between  two  members  of  Mr.  Choate's  class,  on  a  very 
large  question,  not  then  entirely  new,  nor  yet,  that  I 
have  heard,  finally  decided,  '  whether  ancient  or  modern 
poetry  had  the  superiority.'  Mr.  Choate  was  required, 
as  President,  by  the  rules  of  the  Society,  to  give  his 
decision  upon  the  question.  As  might  be  expected 
from  the  general  bias  of  his  mind,  he  took  strong 
ground  for  the  ancients,  and  I  well  remember,  at  this 
distance  of  time,  the  general  course  of  his  remarks 
upon  the  subject." 

But  though  the  position  of  Mr.  Choate  among  his 
classmates  was  early  determined,  and  never  for  one 
moment  afterwards  in  doubt,  no  student  ever  bore  his 
academic  honors  with  greater  modesty,  or  was  regarded 
by  his  classmates  with  a  more  sincere  affection.  Envy 
was  swallowed  up  in  admiration.  The  influence  of  so 
distinguished  a  scholar  was  not  confined  to  his  own 
class,  but  was  diffused  throughout  college.  In  all  mat 
ters  of  literature  he  was  the  oracle  from  which  there 
was  no  appeal.  With  sensibilities  warm  and  generous, 
never  showing  an  unkind  emotion,  or  doing  a  dis 
honorable  act,  it  is  not  surprising  that  his  influence 
should  have  been  great,  or  that  his  memory  should  be 
affectionately  cherished  by  many  who  have  hardly  seen 
him  for  forty  years.  "  Meeting  him  one  day  about  the 
last  of  November,"  writes  one  who  was  in  college  with 
him,1  "  something  was  said  about  the  manner  of  spend 
ing  the  winter  vacation,  and  I  frankly  told  him  that 

1  Rev.  A.  Converse,  D.D. 


1799-1830.1 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  21 


the  want  of  funds  required  me  to  teach  a  school  the 
next  quarter.  In  reply  he  said,  '  You  had  better  hire 
money  and  pay  ten  per  cent  interest,  and  remain  here 
and  study  and  read,  than  to  lose  any  part  of  your  col 
lege  life.'  .  .  .  Being  the  word  of  a  Senior  to  a  Fresh 
man  who  had  no  personal  claims  to  his  friendly  regards, 
—  and  of  a  Senior  who  stood  head  and  shoulders  above 
his  coevals, — it  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind. 
It  was  a  word  not  to  be  forgotten." 

Mr.  Choate  closed  his  college  course  in  1819,  with 
the  valedictory.  The  six  weeks'  Senior  vacation,  which 
then  preceded  Commencement,  he  had  passed  upon  a 
sick-bed,  from  which  he  returned  with  hardly  strength 
to  perform  his  part.  He  was  pale,  feeble,  and  could 
only  deliver  the  strictly  valedictory  address.  But  there 
was  in  it  so  much  of  manliness  and  beauty,  a  tone  so 
high,  so  pure,  so  vigorous,  that  every  eye  was  fixed ; 
and  when  he  alluded  to  his  own  feeble  health,  his 
appearance  and  manner  gave  deep  solemnity  and  almost 
a  prophetic  force  to  his  words.  The  effect  is  said  to 
have  been  unexampled.  Not  only  his  classmates,  but 
'half  the  audience,  and  not  a  few  among  the  grave 
trustees,  used  to  such  occasions,  were  dissolved  in 
tears. 

The  next  year  Mr.  Choate  spent  in  the  then  re 
sponsible  office,  of  tutor  in  the  college,  —  a  year  to  him, 
and  almost  equally  to  his  pupils,  all  sunshine.  "  He 
entered  upon  his  duties,"  writes  one  who  then  became 
his  pupil,1  "  with  such  a  reputation  for  scholarship,  and 
with  such  high  commendations  freely  expressed  by 
classmates  and  the  College  Faculty,  that  the  class  came 
to  him  with  what  in  almost  any  case  would  be  extrava- 

1  Rev.  Paul  Couch. 


22  MEMOIR    OF  ItUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

gant  expectations ;  but  in  the  trial  there  was  no  abate 
ment  of  their  first  love  and  admiration.  Mr.  Choate's 
first  appearance  in  the  recitation-room,  and  his  brief 
address  to  the  class,  won  their  confidence,  and  inspired 
them  with  purposes  of  noble  emulation.  And  in  a  like 
manner  he  influenced  them  through  the  whole  of  his 
tutorship.  He  threw  a  charm  over  the  services  of  the 
recitation-room,  mingling  enjoyment  with  labor  in  such 
a  way  that  his  pupils  loved  to  be  there,  and  with  him. 
How  much  time  and  labor  he  expended  in  preparation 
we  of  course  did  not  know ;  but  we  did  know  that  he 
was  wholly  in  his  business,  that  he  was  ready  at  all 
points,  that  he  was  most  exact  and  severe  in  the  class- 
drill,  while,  at  the  same  time,  every  thing  was  done 
with  such  urbanity  and  generous  familiarity,  and  with 
such  affluence  of  auxiliary  suggestions,  that  weariness 
was  unknown  in  the  recitation-room.  He  was  a  master 
in  Latin  :  he  revelled  in  Greek. 

"  Mr.  Choate  had  such  power  over  his  class,  and  used 
his  power  with  such  consummate  skill,  with  such  natural 
adroitness,  that  they  were  enthusiastic  in  their  esteem 
of  his  admirable  gifts,  and  in  their  attachment  to  his 
person.  In  whatever  circumstances  he  met  them,  he 
caused  them  to  feel  easy  and  gratified.  They  were 
proud  of  his  friendship,  and  of  his  familiar  though 
dignified  intercourse  with  him.  He  had  no  pedagogical 
airs,  no  tutorial  affectation  of  wisdom  and  dignity ;  but 
he  had  authority,  and  received  the  willing  tribute  of 
respect.  In  his  own  room  especially,  they  found  him 
teacher  and  companion  so  happily  combined,  that  every 
visit  created  a  desire  for  its  repetition.  When  his  one 
year's  service  was  closed,  he  left  the  class  undivided  in 
their  attachment  to  him,  and  expressing  the  deepest 


1799-1830.]  STUDIES  WITH  MR.   WIRT.  23 

regret  that  they  could  not  be  favored  longer  with  his 
instructions." 

After  leaving  Dartmouth,  he  entered  upon  the  study 
of  his  profession  in  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge, 
presided  over,  at  that  time,  b^  Chief  Justice  Parker, 
and  Asahel  Stearns.  From  them  he  gained  his  first 
insight  into  the  methods,  objects,  and  morality  of  the 
law.  Still  yearning,  however,  for  a  wider  view  of  affairs, 
and  influenced  perhaps  by  the  fact  that  his  brother-in- 
law,  Dr.  Sewall,had  removed  to  Washington,  he  entered, 
in  1821,  the  office  of  Mr.  Wirt,  then  Attorney-General 
of  the  United  States,  and  in  the  ripeness  of  his  powers 
and  fame.  The  year  at  Washington,  although  he  did 
not  see  so  much  as  he  wished  of  Mr.  Wirt,  who  was 
confined  for  a  considerable  portion  of  the  time  by  indis 
position,  was  not  without  considerable  advantage.  It 
enlarged  his  knowledge  of  public  men  and  of  affairs. 
He  became  familiar  with  the  public  administration.  He 
spent  some  hours  almost  daily  in  the  library  of  Con 
gress.  He  began  to  comprehend  still  more  fully  the 
dignity  of  his  chosen  profession.  He  saw  Marshall 
upon  the  bench,  and  heard  Pinkney  in  the  Senate,  and 
in  his  last  speech  in  court,  and  thenceforth  became 
more  than  ever  an  admirer  of  the  genius  of  those 
eminent  men.  Pinkney,  he  thought  the  most  con 
summate  master  of  a  manly  and  exuberant  spoken 
English  that  he  ever  heard,  and  he  always  kept  him  in 
view  as  a  sort  of  model  advocate. 

Among  the  college  friends  of  Mr.  Choate,  to  whom 
he  was  strongly  attached,  was  James  Marsh,  whose 
early  attainments  and  wide  culture  gave  promise  of  his 
future  eminence,  and  who  already  had  pushed  his 
studies  into  the  then  almost  unknown  regions  of  Ger- 


24  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [Cn.xp  I. 

man  metaphysics.     To   him  Mr.  Choate  writes  from 
Washington :  — 

To  Mr.  JAMES  MARSH,  Theological  Seminary,  Anclover,  Mass. 

"Aug.  11,  1821. 

"  I  t«ke  great  shame  to  myself  for  neglecting  so  long  to 
answer  your  letter,  and  beg  you  will  explain  it  anyhow  but 
oil  the  supposition  that  I  have  meant  to  requite  your  own 
remissness  in  kind.  My  remissness,  you  might  kuow,  if  you 
would  think  a  moment,  is  never  so  intentional  a  matter  as 
that  comes  to  ;  '  idleness  and  irresolution  '  will  account  for  it 
always;  and  since  you,  whose  fine  habits  are  the  envy  of  all 
your  literary  friends,  set  the  example,  4  idleness  and  irreso 
lution  '  I  shall  plead  without  evasion  and  without  remorse 
now  and  henceforward  for  ever.  But  I  wonder  if  I  shall  act 
quite  as  wisely  in  pleading,  too,  other  matters  of  apology? 
in  telling  you  for  instance,  that  your  letter  and  my  own 
reflections,  since  I  read  it,  have  assured  me  of  what  I  was 
suspicious  of  before,  though  I  never  owned  it  to  myself,  and 
pretended  not  to  believe  it,  that  I  can  really  walk  no  longer 
k  within  that  magic  circle,'  where  we  used  to  disport  ourselves. 
.  .  .  This  I  own  I  am  ashamed  of,  but  that  ocean  of  German 
theology  and  metaphysics  (not  to  say  criticism).  —  ah.  Marsh, 
yon  may  swim  on  alone  in  that  if  you  will,  and  much  good 
may  it  do  you  !  I  never  could  swim  in  it  myself  at  any  rate 
(it  was  like  being  a  yard  behind  a  cuttle-fish),  and  have  long 
since  made  up  my  mind  that  any  smaller  fry  than  a  leviathan 
stand  no  sort  of  chance  in  its  disturbed,  muddy,  unfathomable 
waters.  On  the  whole,  however,  this  is  no  reason  at  all  why 
we  should  cease  to  be  very  warm  friends,  and  in  our  way, 
very  punctual  correspondents,  and  so  let  me  thank  you  at  last 
heartily,  for  writing  >nch  a  full  and  interesting  letter,  and  beg 
you  to  repeat  your  kindness  very  frequently  till  we  shake 
hands  again  in  your  own  cell  at  Andover,  or  in  some  one  of 
the  gay  halls  of  our  endeared  Hanover.  Our  correspondence 
will  certainly  answer  one  end,  and  that  I  hope  we  both  think, 
no  inconsiderable  one,  —  it  will  bring  us  often  into  each 
other's  thoughts  and  presence,  and  keep  green  in  our  memories 
the  days,  well  spent  and  happy  and  dear  to  us  both,  of  our 
literary  intimacy.  We  go  ou  together  no  longer;  our  paths 
are  widely  asunder  already,  to  diverge  still  more  at  every 


1799-1830.]  DEATH  OF  HIS  BROTHER.  25 

step.  But  for  this  very  reason  let  us  carefully  cherish  a 
kindly  remembrance  of  each  other,  and  of  the  time  when  our 
studies,  tastes,  and  objects  of  ambition  were  one ;  and  the 
same  intense  first  love  of  a  new  and  fascinating  department 
of  literature  burned  in  both  our  bosoms.  I  darkly  gather 
from  what  you  tell  me,  that  you  are  plunging  still  more  and 
more  deeply  into  that  incomprehensible  science  in  which  you 
are  to  live  and  to  be  remembered,  and  are  contriving  every  day 
to  detect  in  it  some  before-unsuspected  relation  to  those  other 
branches  of  learning  with  which  a  less  acute,  or  less  enthu 
siastic  eye  would  never  see  it  to  have  the  loosest  connection. 
...  I  am  sadly  at  a  loss  for  books  here,  but  I  sit  three  days 
every  week  in  the  large  Congressional  library,  and  am  study 
ing  our  o\vn  extensive  ante-revolutionary  history,  and  reading 
your  favorite  Gibbon.  The  only  classic  I  can  get  is  Ovid  ; 
arid  while  I  am  about  it,  let  me  say,  too,  that  I  read  every 
day  some  chapters  in  an  English  Bible.  I  miss  extremely 
the  rich  opportunities  we  enjoyed  formerly,  and  which  you 
still  enjoy,  but  I  hope  I  shall  at  last  begin  to  think. 

"  Most  truly  yours,  R.  CHOATE." 

From  his  residence  at  the  capital,  and  the  abundant 
advantages  which  it  offered  to  a  mind  so  observant  as 
his,  he  was  suddenly  called  away  before  fully  complet 
ing  his  first  year,  by  an  event  which  affected  him  with 
the  deepest  sorrow.  His  brother  Washington,  his 
early  playmate  and  fellow-student,  younger  than  him 
self  by  nearly  four  years,  entered  Dartmouth  College 
the  year  that  Rufus  graduated.  Unlike  his  older 
brother  in  personal  appearance,  he  resembled  him  in 
many  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  and  gave  prom 
ise  of  equal  distinction.  He  was  a  tall  and  slender 
young  man,  of  a  fair  complexion,  with  light  hair  and 
light  blue  eyes.  Entering  college  with  a  comparatively 
thorough  preparation,  he  at  once  became,  by  universal 
and  cheerful  acknowledgment,  the  leader  of  his  class, 
and  yet  he  was  the  most  gentle,  modest,  and  unobtru 
sive  of  them  all.  The  few  papers  which  he  left  behind 


20  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

him,  to  which  I  have  had  access,  indicate  unusual 
scholarship  and  a  remarkable  extent  of  attainment  in 
languages  and  modern  literature.  They  show  also 
uncommonly  pure  and  deep  religious  sensibilities. 
Kind,  companionable,  and  true,  loving  and  beloved,  he 
had  already  consecrated  his  life  to  a  service  in  which 
none  could  have  fairer  hopes  of  eminence  and  useful 
ness,  but  upon  which  he  was  not  permitted  to  enter. 
Having  taught  school  near  home  during  the  winter  of 
his  Junior  year,  he  was  attacked  by  the  scarlet  fever  on 
the  very  day  of  his  proposed  return  to  college,  and 
after  a  brief  illness,  died  February  27,  1822,  at  the  age 
of  nineteen.  During  his  sickness  his  thoughts  turned 
with  unwavering  and  intense  affection  towards  his  ab 
sent  brother.  He  began  to  dictate  a  letter  to  him  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  he  died.  "  There  is 
one  subject,  Rufus,"  he  said,  "  upon  which  we  must 
not  be  dumb  so  that  we  speak  not,  nor  deaf  so  that  we 
hear  not,  nor  blind  so  that  we  may  not  see.  It  is  not 

a  subject  upon  which  " The  sentence  was  never 

completed.  Not  the  letter,  but  the  news  of  his  death, 
was  borne  to  Washington,  and  it  proved  almost  too 
much  for  the  elder  brother  to  endure.  He  sought  out 
and  re-read  the  old  books  which  they  had  studied  to 
gether,  while  the  floodgates  of  grief  were  opened,  and 
he  refused  to  be  comforted.  His  studies  at  Washing 
ton  were  abandoned,  and  he  returned  for  a  while  to 
the  seclusion  of  Essex.  Some  time  afterwards  he  re 
ceived  the  following  testimonial  from  Mr.  Wirt, —  the 
italics  being  his:  — 

"  WASHINGTON,  November  2,  1822. 

"  Mr.  Rufus  Choate  read  law  in  my  office  and  under  my 
direction  for  about  twelve  months.     He  evinced  great  power 


1799-1830.]  ADMISSION   TO    THE   BAR.  27 

of  application,  and  displayed  a  force  and  discrimination  of 
mind  from  which  I  formed  the  most  favorable  presages  of  his 
future  distinction  in  his  profession.  His  deportment  was  in 
all  respects  so  correct  as  to  entitle  him  to  respect,  aiid  lie  car 
ried  with  him  my  best  wishes  for  his  professional  eminence, 
prosperity,  and  happiness.  WM.  WIRT." 

After  remaining  for  a  time  at  home,  he  entered  his 
name  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Asa  Andrews,  of  Ipswich,  and 
subsequently  continued  his  studies  with  Judge  Cum 
mins,  a  distinguished  lawyer  of  Salem.  He  was  finally 
admitted  an  Attorney  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas, 
in  September,  1823,  and  two  years  later  was  enrolled 
as  Attorney  of  the  Supreme  Court. 

It  has  been  generally  stated  that  Mr.  Choate  first 
opened  his  office  in  South  Danvers,  —  and  this  is  sub 
stantially  true.  But  in  fact,  he  first  put  up  his  sign 
in  Salem.  It  remained  up,  however,  but  one  night, 
when  his  natural  modesty,  or  self-distrust,  led  him  to 
remove  it  to  Danvers,  a  little  farther  from  the  courts 
and  from  direct  rivalry  with  the  eminent  lawyers  who 
engrossed  the  business  and  controlled  the  opinions  of 
that  distinguished  bar. 

The  four  or  five  years  that  he  spent  in  Danvers  were 
the  years  of  solicitude  and  hope  which  can  never  come 
twice  to  a  professional  man,  and  which  endear  to  him 
the  place  wkere  his  first  successes  are  achieved,  and 
the  men  from  whom  he  receives  his  first  encourage 
ment.  He  regarded  no  other  place  with  exactly  the 
feelings  which  he  entertained  for  Danvers  ;  and  the 
kindness  seemed  to  be  fully  reciprocated.  During  his 
short  residence  there  he  twice  represented  the  town  in 
the  Legislature,  and  for  one  year  was  a  member  of 
the  Senate. 

Not  long  after  opening  his  office,  and  perhaps  when 


28  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

under  some  feeling  of  discouragement,  he  thus  closes 
a  letter  to  his  friend  Mr.  Marsh,  then  tutor  in  Hamp- 
den  Sydney  College,  Virginia  :  — 

"  There  is  a  new  novel  by  the  author  of  'Valerius,'  that  a 
friend  of  mine  here  says  is  very  clever,  but  I  haven't  got  it 
yet.  He  seems,  from  that  specimen,  at  any  rate,  to  be  a  man 
of  elegant  and  thorough  studies,  and,  without  any  such  fertility 
and  versatility  as  that  other,  —  our  Shakspeare, —  might  hit 
out  a  single  performance  of  pretty  formidable  pretensions  to 
equality  in  some  great  features.  How  wretchedly  adapted  is 
our  American  liberal  education  and  our  subsequent  course  of 
life,  to  form  and  mature  a  mind  of  so  much  depth,  taste,  and 
beautiful  enlargement.  How  vulgar  and  untaught  we  gen 
erally  are  with  all  our  unquestionable  natural  capacity.  ...  I 
don't  remember  to  have  ever  looked  upon  the  coming  in  of  the 
first  month  of  winter,  with  a  more  prostrating  sense  of  mis-' 
erab/eness,  than  presses  upon  me  every  moment  that  I  am  not 
hard  at  study.  Cold  is  itself  an  intolerable  evil,  and  it  conies 
with  such  a  dreary  accompaniment  of  whistling  wind  and  fall 
ing  leaf,  that  'I  would  not  live  alway'  if  these  were  the 
terms  on  which  we  were  to  hold  out.  I  really  think  that  the 
time  of  life,  when  the  nakedness  and  desolation  of  a  fast 
darkening  November  could  be  softened  and  relieved  by  blend 
ing  in  it  fancy,  romance,  association,  and  hope,  is  gone  by 
with  me,  and  I  actually  tremble  to  see  lifting  up  from  one 
season  of  the  year  after  another,  from  one  character  after 
another,  and  from  life  itself,  even  a  life  of  study,  ambition, 
and  social  intercourse,  that  fair  woven  cover,  which  is  spread 
upon  so  much  blackness,  hollowness,  and  commonplace.  But 
towards  you  my  feelings  change  not,  and  so  of  about  five  more 
persons  only  whom  I  have  ever  known. —  Begging  you  to 
excuse  every  thing  amiss,  Yours,  R.  C. 

"  DANVEKS,  Nov.  23,  1823." 

Mr.  Choate's  immediate  success,  although  as  great 
as  could  be  anticipated,  was  not  particularly  striking, 
and  during  the  first  two  or  three  years,  in  some  seasons 
of  despondency,  he  seriously  debated  whether  he  should 
not  throw  up  his  profession,  and  seek  some  other 
method  of  support.  In  the  mean  time,  in  1825,  he  was 


1799-1830.]  HIS   MARRIAGE.  29 

united  in  marriage  with  Helen  Olcott,  daughter  of 
Mills  Olcott,  Esq.,  of  Hanover,  N.H.  Few  men  have 
been  more  widely  known  in  New  Hampshire,  or  more 
deeply  respected  than  Mr.  Olcott.  He  was  a  person  of 
remarkable  sagacity,  of  great  wisdom  in  the  conduct  of 
affairs,  magnanimous  and  generous,  eminently  cour 
teous,  dignified  and  kind,  one  of  the  few  to  whom  the 
old-fashioned  name  of  gentleman  could  be  applied  with 
out  restriction  or  reserve.  This  congenial  alliance 
was  one  of  the  many  felicitous  circumstances  of  Mr. 
Choate's  early  career.  It  brought  him  sympathy,  en 
couragement,  and  support.  It  not  only  gave  him  a 
new  stimulus  to  labor,  but  proved  in  all  respects  most 
congenial  with  his  tastes,  and  favorabj 
aspirations.  /Although  he  did  not  at  first  escape  the 
fate  of  most  young  lawyers,  the  number  of  whose 
clients  is  not  always  equal  to  their  wishes,  yet  his 
unwearied  diligence,  his  fidelity,  and  the  fame  of  his 
eloquence  and  skill,  soon  brought  to  him  a  full  share 
of  the  business  of  the  town  and  country.  He  early 
formed  the  habit  of  doing  for  his  client  every  thing  that 
the  case  required  irrespective  of  reward.  Before  a 
justice  of  the  peace,  in  an  office  not  larger  than  a  shoe 
maker's  shop,  in  defence  of  some  petty  offender,  he 
poured  forth  the  same  wealth  of  words  and  illustra 
tions,  of  humor  and  wit,  and  in  its  measure,  of  learn 
ing  and  argument,  which  afterwards  delighted  the 
Supreme  Court  and  the  Senate.  Indeed,  throughout 
his  life,  he  never  reserved  his  brilliant  arguments  for  a 
suitable  audience.  He  early  made  it  a  rule,  for  the 
sake  of  increasing  his  power  as  an  advocate,  to  argue 
at  full  length  every  case  he  tried,  and  to  do  his  best  on 
every  occasion.  He  as  resolutely  determined  to  shrink 


30  MEMOIR    OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I 

from  no  labor  which  might  be  necessary  to  the  perfect 
completion  of  whatever  he  undertook.  In  a  famous 
dog  case  at  Beverly,  it  was  said  that  "  he  treated  the 
dog  as  though  he  were  a  lion  or  an  elephant,  and  the 
crabbed  old  squire  witli  the  compliment  and  considera 
tion  of  a  chief  justice !  " 

On  one  very  stormy  night  during  his  residence  in 
Danvers,  he  was  called  upon,  at  a  late  hour,  to  draw 
the  will  of  a  dying  man  who  lived  several  miles  dis 
tant.  He  went,  performed  the  service,  and  returned 
home.  But  after  going  to  bed,  as  he  lay  revolving  in 
his  mind  each  provision  of  the  paper  he  had  so  rapidly 
prepared,  there  flashed  across  his  memory  an  omission 
that  might  possibly  cause  the  testator's  intention  to  be 
misunderstood.  He  sprang  from  his  bed  and  began 
dressing  himself  rapidly,  to  the  great  surprise  of  his 
wife,  only  answering  her  inquiries  by  saying  that  he 
had  done  what  must  be  undone,  and  in  the  thick  of 
the  storm,  rode  again  to  his  dying  client,  explained  the 
reason  of  his  return,  and  drew  a  codicil  to  the  will 
which  made  every  thing  sure.  He  related  this  in  after 
life  in  illustration  of  a  remark,  that  sometimes,  years 
after  a  case  had  been  tried,  he  would  feel  a  pang  of 
reproach  that  he  had  not  urged  some  argument  which 
at  that  moment  flashed  across  his  mind.  He  always 
fought  his  lost  cases  over  again,  to  see  if  lie  could  find 
any  argument  whereby  he  might  have  gained  them. 
Nor  did  he  at  this  time  neglect  his  purely  literary 
studies.  A  literary  society,  already  existing  in  the 
town,  found  in  him  an  active  and  valuable  member. 
The  lecture  on  "  The  Waverley  Novels  "  was  then  pre 
pared.  He  also  delivered  two  4th  of  July  orations,  one 
before  the  Danvers  Light  Infantry,  of  which  corps  he 
became  a  member,  and  one  before  the  citizens  at  large. 


1799-1830.]  OPINION   OF  JUDGE   SHAW.  31 

Iii  the  mean  time  his  professional  fame  was  spread 
ing.  His  unique  and  vigorous  eloquence,  his  assiduity, 
care,  and  fidelity  to  his  clients,  adorned  with  a  modesty 
as  singular  as  it  was  beautiful,  gained  him  many 
friends  and  more  admirers. 

An  extract  from  a  letter  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw  will 
show  how  his  reputation  gradually  increased  at  the 
bar  :  "I  had  an  opportunity  to  see  Mr.  Choate,  and  wit 
ness  his  powers  as  an  advocate  very  early,  when  he  first 
opened  an  office  in  Danvers,  and  when  I  had  scarcely 
heard  his  name  mentioned.     It  happened,  that  in  con 
sequence  of  one  or  more  large  failures  in  Danvers,  a 
number  of  litigated   suits  were  commenced  between 
various  parties,  all  of  which  —  to  avoid  delay  and  ob 
tain  a  more  early  decision  I  suppose  — were  referred 
to  the  late  Hon.  Samuel  Hoar,  of  Concord,  and  myself, 
as    arbitrators.       We    attended    at    the    court-house 
in  Salem  and   heard  them,  I  think,  in  June,   1826. 
Mr.  Choate  appeared  as  counsel  in  several  of  them. 
As  he  was  previously  unknown  to  us  by  reputation, 
and  regarding  him  as  we  did,  as  a  young  lawyer  just 
commencing  practice  in  a  country  town,  we  were  much 
and  very  agreeably  surprised   at  the  display  of  his 
powers.     It  appeared   to  me  that  he  then  manifested 
much  of  that  keen,  legal  discrimination,  of  the  acute- 
ness,  skill,  and  comprehensive  view  of  the  requirements 
of  his  case,  in  the  examination  of  witnesses,  and  that 
clearness  and  force   in  presenting  questions   both  of 
fact  and  law,  by  which  he  was  so  much  distinguished 
in  his  subsequent  brilliant   professional  career.     He 
soon  after  this  removed  to  Salem,  and  in  a  short  time 
became  extensively  and  favorably  known,  as  a  jurist 
and  advocate." 


32  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

Salem  and  Danvers  were  then,  as  now,  closely  con 
nected.  The  first  case  in  which  he  professionally  ap 
peared  in  the  former  city  was  in  defence  of  a  number 
of  young  men  of  respectable  families,  charged  with 
riotous  proceedings  at  a  low  dance-house.  I  cannot 
do  so  well  as  to  take  the  account  furnished  to  the 
"  Salem  Register"  by  one  of  the  distinguished  mem 
bers  of  the  Essex  bar.1  "  The  case  excited  much  in 
terest  from  the  character  and  position  of  some  of  the 
parties  implicated,  and  especially  from  the  fame,  even 
then,  of  the  young  advocate.  He  had  before  that  time, 
I  believe,  appeared  before  some  of  the  magistrates  of 
Danvers.  .  .  .  Under  these  circumstances  it  is  not 
strange  that  when  the  4  Mumibrd  Case,'  as  it  was 
called,  came  up  in  Salem,  —  a  somewhat  larger  and 
broader  theatre,  —  a  more  diversified  audience, — ship 
masters,  old  salts,  supercargoes,  clerks,  merchants,  and 
the  various  men  of  the  various  callings  of  the  chief 
town  of  the  county,— -an  interest  and  a  feeling  alto 
gether  unusual  should  have  been  excited  on  the  oc 
casion.  It  was  so.  The  place  where  Justice  Savage 
held  his  court  was  a  large  room  on  the  second  floor  of 
a  substantial  building,  in  one  of  the  principal  streets, 
and  it  was  immediately  densely  packed  with  all  the 
varieties  of  the  population.  The  trial  commenced  and 
proceeded ;  witness  after  witness  was  called,  and  all 
subjected  to  the  severest  and  most  rigid  cross-examina 
tion  by  the  young  counsel.  Now  and  then  a  passage 
at  arms  with  the  counsel  for  the  government  (a  gen 
tleman  of  very  considerable  experience  in  criminal 
courts,  and  of  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years'  standing 
at  the  bar)  would  come  up  to  give  variety  to  the 

1  Hon.  Asahel  Huntington. 


1799-1830.]     REMINISCENCES  BY  MR.  HUNTINGTON.       33 

scene  ;  and  now  and  then  a  gentle,  most  gracious  and 
reverential  rencontre  with  the  honorable  court  would 
intervene,  and  again  a  hard  contest  with  some  perverse 
and  obstinate  witness  would  relieve  the  tedium  of  the 
protracted  examination.  Some  of  the  immediate  audi 
tors  would  get  overheated,  and  then  work  themselves 
out  into  the  fresh  air,  and  report  the  proceedings,  —  the 
sayings  and  doings  of  the  young  lawyer,  —  what  he  said 
to  his  antagonist,  Esq.  T.,  or  to  the  honorable  court,  or 
this  or  that  fugitive  comment  on  the  witness,  or  case, 
as  the  trial  proceeded  (an  inveterate  habit  of  Mr. 
Choate's,  in  all  his  early  practice,  and  no  court  or 
counsel  were  or  could  be  quick  enough  to  prevent  it, 
—  it  would  breathe  out,  this  or  that  comment,  or  word, 
or  suggestion). 

"  In  this  way,  and  by  such  means,  the  fame  of  the 
case  extended,  while  the  trial  was  in  progress,  some 
two  or  three  days,  in  the  office  of  a  police  justice ! 
Men  of  the  various  classes  would  assemble  around  the 
court-room,  in  the  entry,  on  the  stairs,  outside,  to  hear 
the  fresh  reports,  and  so  things  continued  till  the  argu 
ment  came,  and  then  there  was  a  rush  for  every  avail 
able  point  and  spot  within  or  without  the  compass  of 
the  speaker's  voice,  and  the  people  literally  hung  with 
delighted  and  most  absorbed  attention  on  his  lips.  It 
was  a  new  revelation  to  this  audience.  They  had 
heard  able  and  eloquent  men  before  in  courts  of  jus 
tice  and  elsewhere.  Essex  had  had  for  years  and  gen 
erations  an  able,  learned,  and  eloquent  bar ;  there  had 
been  many  giants  among  us,  some  of  national  fame 
and  standing,  but  no  such  giant  as  this  had  appeared 
before, —  such  words,  such  epithets,  such  involutions, 
such  close  and  powerful  logic  all  the  while,  —  such 


34  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  I. 

grace  and  dignity,  such  profusion  and  waste  even  of 
every  thing  beautiful  and  lovely !  No,  not  waste,  he 
never  wasted  a  word.  How  he  dignified  that  Court, — 
how  he  elevated  its  high  functions,  with  what  deference 
did  he  presume  to  say  a  word,  under  the  protection, 
and,  as  he  hoped,  with  the  approving  sanction  of  that 
high  tribunal  of  justice,  in  behalf  of  his  unfortunate 
(infelicitous,  from  the  circumstances  in  which  they 
were  placed)  clients  !  I  could  give  no  word  or  sen 
tence  of  this  speech.  I  did  not  even  hear  it,  but  I 
heard  much  about  it,  and  all  accounts  agreed  in  repre 
senting  it  as  an  extraordinary  and  wholly  matchless 
performance.  They  had  never  heard  the  like  before, 
or  any  thing  even  approaching  it,  for  manner  and  sub 
stance.  It  was  a  new  school  of  rhetoric,  oratory,  and 
logic,  and  of  all  manner  of  diverse  forces,  working, 
however,  steadily  and  irresistibly  in  one  direction  to 
accomplish  the  speaker's  purpose  and  object.  The 
feeling  excited  by  this  first  speech  of  Mr.  Choate  in 
Salem  was  one  of  great  admiration  and  delight.  All 
felt  lifted  up  by  his  themes.  .  .  .  And  all  were  pre 
pared  to  welcome  him,  when,  a  few  years  afterwards, 
he  took  up  his  abode  here,  after  the  elevation  of  his  old 
friend  and  teacher,  Judge  Cummins,  to  the  bench  of 
the  Court  of  Common  Pleas." 


1830-1840.]  REMOVAL  TO   SALEM.  35 


CHAPTER    II. 

1830-1840. 

Removal  to  Salem  —  The  Essex  Bar  —  Successes  —  Appearance  — 
Counsel  in  the  Knapp  Case  —  Studies — Letter  to  President  Marsh 
—  Elected  to_Congf  ess  —  Commonplace  Book  —  Letter  to  President 
Marsh  —  Enters  Congress  —  Speeches  on  Revolutionary  Pensions, 
and  on  the  Tariff — Letter  to  Dr.  Andrew  Nichols — Letters  to 
Professor  George  Bush  —  The  Second  Session  —  Georgia,  and  the 
Missionaries  to  the  Indians  —  Letter  to  Professor  Bush  —  Re-elected 
to  Congress  —  Speech  on Jhj_R.ejrjiKaLof  the  Deposits  —  Resigns 
his  Seat  —  Removes  to  Boston  —  Lecture  on  the  "  Waverley  Nov- 
eTs7rand  on  "  The  Romance  of  the  Sea  "  —  Death  of  Ins  Youngest 
Child. 

IN  1828,  Mr.  Choate  removed  to  Salem.  The  Essex 
bar  was  then,  as  it  had  long  been,  distinguished  for 
learning  and  skill.  The  memory  of  Dane  and  Parsons, 
and  Story  and  Putnam,  was  fresh  and  fragrant ;  John 
Pickering,  Leverett  Saltonstall,  Eben  Mosely,  .David 
Cummins,  and  John  Varnum,  were  still  in  full  prac 
tice  ;  Caleb  Gushing,  Robert  C.  Rantoul,  and  others 
like  them,  were  making  their  influence  felt  as  young 
men  of  ability  and  ambition.  Mr.  Choate  was  already 
known  for  the  qualities  by  which  he  was  afterwards 
distinguished,  learning,  assiduity,  a  judgment  almost 
unerring,  an  ornate  and  exuberant  style,  and  remark 
able  powers  of  advocacy.  Without  assumption,  modest, 
deferential,  he  yet  rose  at  once  to  a  high  position 
through  the  combined  force  of  eminent  talents  and 
professional  fidelity. 

He  became  the  leading  counsel  in  criminal  practice, 


36  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

and  it  was  said  that  during  his  residence  in  Salem 
"  no  man  was  convicted  whom  he  defended."  It  was 
however  true  that  he  was  not  eager  to  assume  a  defence 
unless  there  appeared  to  be  a  good  legal  ground  for  it. 
Many  stories  were  current  of  his  ingenuity  and  success. 
One  of  the  most  characteristic  was  that  told  of  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Jefferds,  indicted  for  stealing  a  flock  of 
turkeys.  "  We  had  this  case,"  says  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  bar,  to  whose  reminiscences  I  am 
already  indebted,1  "  at  every  term  of  the  court  for  a 
year  or  more,  and  the  inquiry  used  to  be  '  When  are 
the  turkeys  coming  on  ? '  The  proofs  accumulated  on 
the  part  of  the  government  at  each  successive  trial. 
The  County  Attorney,  a  man  of  experience  and  ability, 
fortified  himself  on  every  point,  and  piled  proof  upon 
proof  at  each  successive  trial,  but  all  without  success. 
The  voice  of  the  charnier  was  too  powerful  for  his 
proofs,  and  at  each  trial  —  three  or  four  in  all,  I  forget 
which — there  was  one  dissenting  juror.  The  case  at 
last  became  famous  in  the  county,  and  in  the  vacations 
of  the  court  the  inquiry  was  often  heard, '  When  is  the 
turkey  case  coming  on  again  ? '  and  persons  would 
come  from  different  parts  of  the  county  on  purpose  to 
hear  that  trial.  Here  the  theatre  was  still  larger.  It 
was  the  county,  the  native  county,  of  the  already  dis 
tinguished  advocate.  I  heard  those  trials.  One  was 
in  old  Ipswich  in  December,  I  think — a  leisure  season 
—within  four  miles  of  the  spot  where  the  orator  was 
born.  They  came  up  from  Essex,  —  old  Chebacco, — 
the  old  and  the  young  men  of  the  town.  Kepresent- 
atives,  more  or  less,  from  the  whole  body  of  the  county, 
were  present,  and  the  court-house  was  crowded  with 

1  Hon.  Asahel  Huntintjton. 


1830-1840.]  THE   TURKEY   CASE.  37 

delighted  and  astonished  listeners.  I  remember  how 
they  all  hung  upon  him,  spellbound  by  his  eloquence, 
and  I  verily  believe  these  by-standers  would  have 
acquitted  by  a  majority  vote  ;  but  the  jury,  bound  by 
their  oaths  to  return  a  true  verdict  according  to  the 
evidence,  would  not  do  so ;  but  still  there  was  one  dis 
senting  juror  ;  and  finally  the  prosecuting  officer,  in 
utter  despair,  after  the  third  or  fourth  trial,  entered  a 
nolle  prosequi,  and  thus  the  turkeys  were  turned  or 
driven  out  of  court.  I  have  heard  that  this  alleged 
turkey-thief  years  afterward  called  on  Mr.  Choate  at 
his  office  in  Boston.  Mr.  Choate  did  not  recollect  him, 
which  greatly  surprised  the  old  client,  and  he  said, 
6  Why,  Mr.  Choate,  I'm  the  man  you  plead  so  for  in 
the  turkey  case,  when  they  couldn't  find  any  thing  agin 
me.'  There  had  been  only  forty-four  good  and  true 
men  against  him  (if  there  were  four  trials,  and  I 
believe  there  were),  without  including  twenty-three 
more  of  the  grand  jury  !  " 

The  power  of  presenting  things  in  a  ludicrous  aspect, 
by  an  odd  turn  of  expression  or  a  laughable  exagger 
ation,  was  exhibited  at  this  early  period  no  less  decid 
edly  than  in  later  life,  and  was  equally  effective  in 
attracting  attention.  A  mischievous  boy  had  proved 
very  troublesome  to  a  man  by  the  name  of  Adams,  by 
letting  down  the  bars  of  his  pasture,  destroying  the 
fences,  and  similar  misdeeds.  Adams  one  day  caught 
him  at  his  tricks,  and  not  being  in  a  very  humane  or 
careful  mood,  seized  and  swung  him  round  by  the  hair 
of  his  head.  The  father  of  the  boy  prosecuted  Adams, 
and  Mr.  Choate  defended  him.  In  the  course  of  the 
argument,  he  characterized  the  act  as  "  a  little  paternal 
stretching  of  the  neck,  which  perchance  may  save  this 


38  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

froward  lad  from  a  final  and  more  eventful  stretching." 
The  jury  seem  to  have  thought  so  too,  for  Adams  was 
acquitted. 

One  Philip  Finnigan  was  charged  with  stealing  grease 
and  ashes  from  a  Mr.  Nichols.  Finnigan,  on  getting 
the  articles,  said  they  were  for  Mr.  Winchester,  a  noted 
soap-manufacturer,  but  Mr.  Winchester  coming  up  at 
the  moment,  exposed  the  falsehood,  and  the  articles  were 
returned.  Mr.  Choate,  in  the  defence,  contended  that 
it  was  only  a  trick  to  defraud  Mr.  Winchester  out  of  a 
customer,  not  to  steal  from  Mr.  Nichols  ;  "  a  shabby 
and  ungentlemanly  affair,  to  be  sure,  but  not  the  crime 
he  is  charged  with."  I  believe  the  defence  was  suc 
cessful. 

Mr.  Choate  was  at  this  time  in  full  health,  muscular 
and  vigorous,  of  a  pale  or  nearly  colorless  complexion, 
with  a  remarkably  intellectual  countenance.  A  gentle 
man,  then  a  boy,  who  lived  very  near  him,  has  told  me 
that  he  often  stopped  to  look  at  him  through  the  win 
dow,  as  he  passed  by  the  house  early  in  the  evening, 
thinking  him  the  handsomest  person  he  had  ever 
seen. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  during  these 
years  at  Salem  he  was  mainly  occupied  with  inferior 
cases,  or  interested  in  the  criminal  law  to  the  neglect 
of  other  branches  of  the  profession.  Dependent  as  he 
was  upon  his  own  exertions,  he  probably,  like  other 
young  lawyers,  felt  obliged  to  accept  such  cases  as 
were  offered  to  him.  But  few,  perhaps,  so  early  in 
their  career,  have  had  a  wider  range  of  clients.  One 
of  the  most  important  trials  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
although  his  name  does  not  appear  on  the  record,  was 
that  of  Knapp,  for  the  murder  of  Capt.  Joseph  White. 


1830-1840.]  THE  KNAPP   CASE.  39 

That  celebrated  case  is  familiarly  known.  Capt.  White 
was  found  dead  in  his  bed  on  the  morning  of  April  7th, 
1830.  Richard  Crovvninshield,  Jr.,  Joseph  J.  Knapp, 
Jr.,  and  John  Francis  Knapp,  were  arrested  and  charged 
with  the  murder.  Crowninshield  committed  suicide 
in  prison,  and  Frank  Knapp  was  put  on  trial  as  prin 
cipal,  the  law  then  requiring  that  some  one  should  be 
convicted  as  principal,  before  any  one  could  be  tried  as 
accessory.  He  was  defended  by  Franklin  Dexter  and 
William  H.  Gardiner.  Mr.  Webster  was  employed,  by 
the  relatives  of  Capt.  White,  to  assist  the  attorney  for 
the  government,  and  besides  him  were  retained  several 
other  lawyers,  who  were  prevented  by  professional 
etiquette  from  publicly  acting  in  the  case.  Among 
these  was  Mr.  Choate.  The  trial  came  on  at  a  special 
term  of  the  Supreme  Court  held  at  Salem,  July  20th. 
It  continued  with  some  intermission  till  the  20th  of 
August.  The  community  was  profoundly  shocked  by 
the  crime,  and  watched  the  course  of  the  trial  with  the 
deepest  interest.  The  counsel  for  the  government  were 
fully  aware  of  the  responsibility  resting  on  them,  and 
shared  the  agitation  pervading  the  town  and  county. 
Every  evening  they  deliberated  together,  and  I  have 
been  told  by  ono  of  them,  that  Mr.  Webster  obviously 
gave  great  heed  to  the  suggestions  of  Mr.  Choate,  who 
was  always  present  and  a  prominent  adviser.  On  one 
occasion  during  the  trial,  an  obscure  but  important  fact 
was  denied  by  the  counsel  for  the  defence.  They  had 
omitted  to  record  it,  and  it  was  found  to  have  escaped 
the  attention  of  every  one  except  Mr.  Webster  and 
Mr.  Choate,  who  were  thus  able  to  corroborate  each 
other. 
During  his  entire  residence  in  Salem,  Mr.  Choate 


40  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

was  a  diligent  and  untiring  student  not  only  of  law, 
but  of  the  whole  circle  of  literature,  and  especially  of 
mental  and  political  philosophy.  He  had  laid  a  broad 
foundation,  and  was  erecting  a  lofty  and  beautiful  su 
perstructure.  He  complained  sometimes  of  his  desul 
tory  habits,  but  his  friends  saw  how  carefully  he 
methodized  his  knowledge,  and  how  entirely  he  had  it 
at  command.  His  habit  was  to  study  standing  at  a 
high  desk,  with  pen  in  hand,  and  a  manuscript  book 
open  before  him.  These  little  volumes,  or  brochures,— 
for  they  are  generally  a  quire  or  two  of  letter-paper 
stitched  together,  —  are  crowded  with  facts,  incidents, 
principles,  and  reflections,  which  demonstrate  both  big 
diligence  and  thoughtfulness.  The  equity  practice  of 
Massachusetts  was  then  in  an  unsettled  and  confused 
state.  He  devoted  himself  for  a  while  to  gathering  up 
the  statutes  and  reducing  the  decisions  to  a  regular 
code.  The  words  with  which,  many  years  afterward, 
he  briefly  delineated  the  character  and  attainments  of 
a  brother  lawyer,  may  even  at  this  time  describe  his 
own. 

"  His  knowledge  of  the  jurisprudence  of  chancery, 
and  his  fondness  for  it,  were  very  remarkable.  Few 
men  of  any  time  of  life  had  studied  it  so  thoroughly, 
discerned  so  well  how  it  rose  above,  and  how  it  supplied 
the  deficiencies  of  the  common  law,  or  loved  it  as  truly 
and  intelligently.  To  such  a  mind  and  such  tastes  as 
his,  its  comparative  freedom  from  technicalities,  its 
regulated  discretion,  and  its  efforts  to  accomplish  exact 
justice  and  effectual  relief,  possessed  a  charm  and  had 
a  value  far  beyond  that  of  the  more  artificial  science, 
whose  incompleteness  and  rigidity  it  supplies  and 
ameliorates,  and  whose  certainty  at  last  reposes  on  the 
learning,  or  the  ignorance,  or  the  humors  of  man. 


1830-1840.]  STUDIES.  41 

"  Beyond  his  profession  he  read  and  he  speculated 
more  variously  and  more  independently  than  most  men 
of  any  profession.  Elegant  general  literature,  politics, 
theology,  in  its  relation  to  the  religion  revealed  in  the 
Bible,  and  to  that  philosophy  which  performs  its  main 
achievements  in  conciliating  faith  with  reason,  —  these 
were  his  recreations." 

With  special  care  he  studied  again  the  philosophy 
of  the  Mind,  making  Dr.  Reid's  Essays  his  text-book, 
and  during  a  considerable  part  of  one  summer  devoted 
himself  to  the  study  of  theology,  in  preparation  of  a 
case,  which  finally  he  did  not  argue,  in  defence  of 
a  person  charged  before  an  association  of  ministers, 
with  error  in  doctrine. 

His  literary  pursuits,  and  the  increasing  demands  of 
his  profession,  compelled  him  to  keep  somewhat  se 
cluded  from  society,  but  there  were  a  few  college 
acquaintance  of  kindred  tastes,  with  whom  he  main 
tained  a  correspondence,  and  in  whose  welfare  he  ever 
had  a  deep  interest.  Foremost  among  these  was  his 
old  friend  Rev.  Dr.  James  Marsh,  then  President  of 
the  University  of  Vermont,  through  whose  efforts  the 
American  public  were  first  introduced  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  philosophical  writings  of  Coleridge,  and  whose 
early  death  took  from  us  one  of  the  most  thorough 
scholars,  and  one  of  the  profoundest  Christian  phi 
losophers,  which  our  country  has  produced.  There 
were  few  men  for  whom  Mr.  Choate  had  such  un 
qualified  respect  and  affection. 

The  following  letter  is  in  reply  to  one  from  Dr. 
Marsh  asking  him  to  review  the  forthcoming  edition 
of  the  "  Aids  to  Reflection  :  "  — 


42  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 


To  PRESIDENT  JAMES  MARSH. 

"  SALEM,  November  14,  1829. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  thought  it  due  to  the  respect  and  love 
I  bear  you,  and  to  the  kindness  and  delicacy  of  the  terms  in 
which  you  make  it,  to  give  your  suggestion  one  week's  con 
sideration  before  trusting  myself  to  act  upon  it.  The  result 
is  that  I  feel  it  will  be  wholly  impossible  for  me  to  execute 
this  duty  of  friendship  and  literature  in  a  manner  worthy  of 
the  book  or  its  editor,  or  of  the  elevated  and  important  pur 
poses  at  which  you  aim  in  this  high  enterprise.  I  know  you 
believe  me  to  be  witting  to  do  every  thing  in  such  circum 
stances  which  the  relation  we  sustain  to  each  other  gives  a 
right  to  expect,  and  it  is  with  very  real  regret  that  I  feel 
myself  unable  adequately  to  do  this  great  thing.  My  habits 
have  become  almost  exclusively  professional,  and  my  time, 
I  don't  very  well  know  how,  seems  to  be  just  about  as  com 
pletely  engrossed  by  the  cases  of  business,  as  if,  like  Henry 
Brougham,  I  was  habitually  arguing  my  five  causes  a.  day. 
But  there  are  obstacles  in  the  way  which  lie  deeper,  such  as 
the  difficulty  of  gathering  up  the  faculties  which  are  now  scat 
tered  over  the  barren  technicalities  and  frivolous  controversies 
of  my  profession,  and  concentrating  them  fixedly  upon  a  great 
moral  and  philosophical  conception,  like  this  of  yours,  worthily 
to  write,  edit,  or  review  such  a  book.  Though  I  never  saw 
it  I  may  say  so.  One  should  sit  whole  weeks  and  months, 
still,  alone,  in  a  study,  with  the  Apollo  Belvedere  in  marble 
to  look  upon,  and  Plato,  Cicero,  Bacon,  Milton,  and  4  all  those  ' 
to  converse  with.  I  could  no  more  raise  myself  into  the  mood 
for  this  achievement  than  I  could  make  a  better  epic  poem 
than  the  Iliad.  But  I  rejoice  that  you  have  taken  this  matter 
in  hand,  and  I  firmly  believe  you  will  produce  a  glorious 
book  most  nobly  edited.  The  employment  of  preparing  it 
must  be  elevating  and  salutary,  and  I  sincerely  hope  its 
general  public  success  may  be  brilliant  beyond  the  hopes  of 
literary  ambition.  I  shall  buy  the  book,  though  I  dare  not 
undertake  to  review  it. 

u  I  had  no  suspicion  that  the  Orthodoxy  of  Andover  *  looked 
askance '  at  you  or  yours,  and  I  suspect  the  matter  has  been 
overstated  to  you.  But  it  may  be  so,  since  very  much  nar 
rowness  of  mind  and  very  great  soundness  of  faith  do  some 
times  go  together,  and  the  Professors  have  all  a  sort  of  strange 


1830-1840.]        NOMINATION  TO    CONGRESS.  43 

horror  of  speculation,  however  regulated  by  a  general  orthodox 
belief,  and  a  sincere  love  of  truth  and  of  man.  But  '  nitor  in 
adversumj  says  Burke,  'is  the  motto  for  a  man  like  me.' 
I  should  no  more  stop  to  consider  how  a  volume  of  matured 
and  brilliant  thoughts  would  be  received  at  Andover,  than 
how  it  would  be  received  by  the  Pope  or  President  Jackson. 
'  Tit  ne  cede  malis,  sed  contra  audentior  ito."1  Such  was 
George  Canning's  self-exhortation,  when  he  went  forth  morn 
ing  and  evening  to  fight  the  great  battles  of  liberty  and  eman 
cipation  with  the  armed  and  mailed  champions  of  old  abuse, 
error,  and  political  orthodoxy,  and  a  thrilling  and  sustaining 
scripture  it  is. 

"  And  now  I  shall  insist  upon  your  being  perfectly  satisfied 
with  my  declining  this  honor.  If  a  more  specific  reason  were 
necessary,  I  might  add  that  the  principal  term  of  our  S.  J.  C. 
is  now  holding  here,  has  been  for  a  fortnight,  and  will  be  till 
the  last  of  December.  Then  I  have  to  go  to  Boston  for  our 
winter's  session.  Nay,  before  that  is  over,  I  hope  the  country 
will  ring  from  side  to  side  with  the  fame  of  your  book. 

"  With  best  regards  and  wishes,  and  Mrs.  Choate's  respects, 
"  I  am  yours  affectionately, 

"R.  CHOATE." 

In  1830,  Mr.  Choate  was  nominated  by  the  National 
Republicans  of  Essex  as  Representative  to  Congress. 
The  result  of  the  Convention  was  communicated  to  him 
in  the  following  characteristic  letter :  — 

"  SALEM,  10th  Mo.  18,  1830. 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE,  ESQ.,  —  The  Convention  have  deter 
mined,  after  several  ballotings,  to  support  thee  for  Repre 
sentative  to  Congress  for  this  district ;  the  last  ballot,  wliich 
produced  this  result,  stood  twenty-three  to  twelve.  I  called 
at  thy  office  previous  to  the  balloting  to  ascertain  whether  the 
nomination  would  be  agreeable,  and  after  the  vote  was  deter 
mined  I  informed  the  Convention  of  thy  absence,  and  a  com 
mittee  was  appointed  to  inform  thee  of  the  result,  and  obtain 
an  answer  of  acceptance  or  otherwise.  I  can  now  say  that  I 
believe  no  other  name  would  run  as  well  in  Lynn,  Chelsea, 
Saugus,  and  Lynnfield,  and  I  have  no  doubt  of  an  election 
at  the  first  meeting,  provided  thy  acceptance  is  seasonably 
announced.  If  consistent  with  thy  interest  and  inclination, 


44  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

it  would  be  gratifying  to  me  to  hear  of  thy  acceptance.  When 
we  find  the  right  man  in  all  other  respects,  we  are  willing  to 
waive  the  Masonic  objection,  believing  the  time  is  coming 
when  all  men  of  talents  and  respectability  will  leave  that  mere 
shadow  for  things  more  substantial. 

"  Thy  friend, 

"  STEPHEN  OLIVER." 

Mr.  Choate  was  then  thirty-one  years  old  and  had 
already,  as  we  have  seen,  passed  through  the  usual 
initiatory  steps  of  public  life,  by  serving  in  the  State 
Legislature.  The  old  district  of  Essex  South,  as  it 
was  called,  had  been  represented  in  Congress  for  eight 
years  by  Hon.  Benj.  "W.  Crowninshield,  a  gentleman 
of  great  respectability,  wealth,  and  family  distinction, 
who  had  been  Secretary  of  the  Navy  under  Madison 
and  Monroe.  A  good  deal  of  feeling  was  naturally 
expressed  by  his  friends,  that  a  young  and  untried 
man,  whose  political  opinions  were  not  widely  known, 
and  whose  acquaintance  with  the  great  commercial 
interests  of  the  district  could  not  be  presumed  to  equal 
that  of  the  veterans  in  politics,  should  be  nominated  in 
place  of  their  tried  and  proved  representative,  and  Mr. 
Crowninshield  was  supported  as  an  independent  can 
didate.  Strong  influences  were  of  course  brought  to 
bear  against  the  young  lawyer,  who  had  little  to  sustain 
him  in  the  conflict  besides  his  own  character  and  merits. 
He  was  charged  with  being  ambitious ;  and  one  young 
politician,  then  a  student  at  law  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Sal- 
tonstall,  in  a  vehement  declamation,  declared,  that  so 
far  from  being  a  substantial  and  permanent  citizen, 
like  Mr.  Crowninshield,  he  was  only  stopping  in  Salem 
for  a  short  time  "  while  he  oated  his  horse,"  as  he  was 
on  his  way  to  Boston. 

In  all  the  contest,  however,  it  was  remarked  that  no 


1830-1840.]  PLAN   OF   STUDY.  45 

unkindness  seemed  to  be  felt  towards  Mr.  Choate  per 
sonally.  His  name  had  been  brought  forward  without 
his  own  knowledge,  mainly  through  the  agency  of  his 
old  friends  in  Danvers,  and  he  was,  with  some  difficulty, 
prevailed  on  to  accept  the  honor.  About  the  severest 
thing  said  of  him,  politically,  during  an  active  canvass, 
was  a  remark  in  one  of  the  papers  that  "  Mr.  Choate 
is  a  gentleman  of  distinguished  talents,  but  we  regret 
to  state  that  he  is  suspected  of  Jacksonism !  "  Sus 
pected  or  not,  however,  he  was  chosen,  after  an  hon 
orable  and  exciting  contest,  by  a  majority  of  more 
than  five  hundred  votes  over  all  opposing  candidates. 
Although  not  ambitious  of  political  life,  he  was  not 
insensible  to  its  honors,  nor  untouched,  by  its  fasci 
nations.  He  regarded  it,  however,  as  a  means  rather 
than  as  an  end.  The  opportunities  it  gave  for  acquaint 
ance  with  distinguished  men,  for  wide  observation  of 
affairs,  and  study  of  great  national  questions,  he  cer 
tainly  thought  much  of,  but  his  heart  was  fixed  upon 
his  profession,  both  as  a  necessity,  and  as  offering  large 
opportunities  for  attainment  and  eminence.  The  new 
position  brought  with  it  new  duties  and  responsibilities 
from  which  he  did  not  shrink,  and  which  he  did  not 
undervalue.  He  at  once  endeavored  to  prepare  for 
them.  No  sooner  was  he  elected  than  he  laid  out  a 
plan  of  study  which  should  best  fit  him  honorably  to 
represent  his  constituents.  I  have  before  me  a  com 
monplace  book,  one  of  the  small  manuscript  folios 
spoken  of  before,  which  shows  both  the  subjects  to 
which  he  devoted  himself,  and  his  methods  of  study. 
The  first  page  is  as  follows  ;  the  words  are  often 
abbreviated,  and  in  his  peculiar  handwriting,  difficult 
to  decipher. 


46  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

"  Nov.  4,  1830. 
"  FACIENDA  AD  MUNUS  NUPER  IMPOSITUM. 

"1.  Pers.  quah.  [personal  qualities].  Memory, —  Daily 
Food  and  Cowper  dum  ambulo.  Voice,  Manner,  —  Exerci- 
tationes  diurnoe. 

"*2.  Current  Politics  in  papers.  1.  Cum  Notulis,  daily, — 
Geog.  &c.  2.  Annual  Regr.,  Past  Intelligencers,  &c. 

"  3.  District  S.  E.  [i.e.  Essex  South],  Pop.  Occs.,  [Popu 
lation,  Occupations].  Modes  of  living.  Commerce,  —  The 
Treaties,  —  and  principles  on  which  it  depends. 

"4.  Civil  History  of  U.  States — in  Pitkin  and  [original] 
Sources. 

"  5.  Exam,  of  Pending  Questions :  Tariff,  Pub.  Lands, 
Indians,  Nullification. 

"  6.  Am.  and  Brit.  Eloquence,  —  Writing,  Practice." 

Then  follow  more  than  twenty  pages  of  the  closest 
writing,  with'abbreviated  and  condensed  statements  of 
results  drawn  from  many  volumes,  newspapers,  mes 
sages,  and  speeches,  with  propositions  and  arguments 
for  and  against,  methodically  arranged  under  topics, 
with  minute  divisions  and  subdivisions.  Some  of 
these  heads,  under  which  he  endeavors  to  compress  the 
most  essential  political  knowledge,  are  these  :  — 

1.  Public  Lands,  giving  the  number  of  acres  in  the 
whole  country,  the  States  where  they  lie,  the  sources 
whence  derived,  the  progress  and  system  of  sales,  <fcc., 
&c.. 

2.  Politics  of  1831,  brought  down  to  the  beginning 
of  the  session  in  December,  an  analysis  of  the. Presi 
dent's  Message,  and  notes  upon  the  subjects  which  it 
suggests  ;  the  measures  and  policy  of  the  government. 

3.  The  Tariff,  beginning  with  an  analysis  of  Hamil 
ton's  Report  in  1790 ;  History  of  Legislation  respect 
ing  it ;  Internal  Improvements,  their  cost  and  the  Con 
stitutional  power  of  making  them. 


1830-1840.J      LETTER   TO   PRESIDENT   MARSH.  47 

Then  follow  three  or  four  closely  written  pages  on 
particular  articles :  wool,  cotton,  flax,  hemp,  iron,  as 
affected  by  the  tariff. 

4.  Analysis  of  British  opinions. 

5.  Cause  of  the  Excitement  in  the  Southern  States. 

6.  Commerce  of  the  United  States  in  1831. 

These  are  but  a  sample  of  the  subjects  which  occupied 
his  attention,  but  they  may  serve  to  indicate  the  thor 
oughness  with  which  he  prepared  for  his  new  position. 
A  letter  to  President  Marsh  will  in  some  measure  show 
his  feeling  and  views  respecting  political  life  :  — 

To  PRESIDENT  JAMES  MARSH. 

"  SALEM,  November  14,  1830. 

"My  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  the 
very  kind  notice  which  you  have  taken  of  what  has  lately 
befallen,  —  a  new  and  most  pleasant  indication  how  far  and 
how  high  in  life  you  have  carried  with  you  the  generosity 
and  friendliness  of  our  earlier  intimacy.  Your  letter  was 
handed  me  in  court,  —  in  the  very  middle  of  the  agony  of 
the  trial  of  a  man  for  his  life,  —  but  I  opened  it  straightway, 
and  read  it  with  the  keenest  pleasure,  —  and  forgetting  for  a 
moment  your  glances  at  the  future,  mused  for  an  hour  over 
the  '  sweet  and  bitter  fancies '  that  are  spread  over  the  recol 
lections  of  the  days  of  our  personal  studious  intercourse,  so 
long  past.  Then  I  just  showed  the  outside  of  the  letter  to  a 
brother  lawyer  who  knows  a  little  literature,  as  being  a  letter 
from  JAMES  MARSH,  of  Burlington,  —  and  having  thus  sac 
rificed  to  vanity  a  trifle,  roused  myself  up  to  hear  Webster 
argue  a  great  question  of  law,  on  which  the  life  of  the  worst 
of  the  murderers  of  Captain  White  depended. 

"  The  matter  of  my  election  I  do  suppose  rather  a  foolish 
one  on  my  part,  —  but  the  nomination  was  so  made  that  I 
could  not  avoid  it  without  wilfully  shutting  myself  out  of  Con 
gress  for  life,  —  since  my  declining  would  undoubtedly  have 
brought  forward  some  other  new  candidate,  who  if  elected, 
would  go  ten  years  at  least,  —  long  before  which  time,  if  liv 
ing,  I  might  have  removed  from  the  District.  The  opposi- 


48  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

tion  which  was  got  up  was  a  good  deal  formidable,  for  noise 
and  anger  at  least,  and  the  wonder  is  that  so  little  came  of  it. 
I,  more  than  once,  while  it  was  raging  about  me,  wished  my- 
s^f  a  tutor  in  the  Indian  Charity  School,  upon  $350  per 
annum,  teaching  the  first  book  of  Livy  to  the  class,  and  study 
ing  with  you  that  dreadful  chapter  in  Mitford  about  the  Dia 
lects.  The  responsibilities  of  the  new  place  I  appreciate 
fully  ; — pro  parte  virili,  I  shall  try  to  meet  them.  I  have  a 
whole  year  yet,  you  know,  before  me,  before  I  take  my  seat, 
—  quite  short  time  enough  for  me  to  mature  and  enter  on  a 
course  of  study  and  thought  adapted  to  this  sphere  of  duty.  I 
hardly  dare  yet  look  the  matter  in  the  face.  Political  life  — 
between  us  —  is  no  part  of  my  plan,  although  I  trust  I  shall 
aim  in  good  faith  to  perform  the  duties  temporarily  and  inci 
dentally  thus  assigned. 

"Why  don't  you  let  me  know  your  daily  literary  employ 
ments, —  how  you  divide  your  hours,  —  what  you  read,  thiuk, 
or  write.  I  should  dearly  love  to  know  just  where  you  are 
on  the  ocean  of  knowledge,  and  what  are  at  any  given  moment 
the  great  objects  with  you  of  intellectual  interest,  or  active  or 
official  pursuit.  Have  you  read  a  little  book  called  the  *  Nat 
ural  History  of  Enthusiasm '  ?  I  approve  its  religious  charac 
ter  entirely,  and  should  think  it  the  book  of  a  noble  and 
full  mind.  .  .  .  Please  to  present  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Marsh, 
and  believe  me  ever, 

"  Respectfully  yours, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

Mr.  Choate  took  his  seat  in  Congress  in  December, 
1831,  and  soon  acquired  from  all  parties  that  involun 
tary  respect  which  a  vigorous  and  well-stored  mind  is 
sure  to  receive.  He  was  modest  and  retiring,  seldom 
obtruding  upon  the  House  by  a  formal  speech,  was  not 
very  tolerant  of  committees,  but  eagerly  watched  the 
course  of  events,  carefully  examined  public  questions^- 
and  made  free  use  of  the  Library  of  Congress.  f^Ias- 
sachusetts  was  then  represented  by  men  of  whom  any 
State  might  be  proud.  In  the  Senate  were  Nathaniel 
Silsbee  and  Daniel  Webster,  then  in  the  fulness  of  his 
strength  and  fame.  In  the  House  were  John  Quincy 


1830-1840.]  SPEECHES  IN   CONGRESS.  49 

Adams,  Nathan  Appleton,  George  N.  Briggs,  Edward 
Everett,  and  John  Davis.  The  Congress  itself  was 
composed  of  an  unusual  number  of  statesmen.  Among 
the  Senators  were  Peleg  Sprague,  Samuel  Prentiss, 
William  L.  Marcy,  George  M.  Dallas,  John  M.  Clayton, 
Henry  Clay,  and  Thomas  H.  Benton.  The  House 
had  such  men  as  James  M.  Wayne,  George  M'Duffie, 
George  Evans,  James  K.  Polk,  Thomas  Corwin,  and 
G.  C.  Verplanck.  In  this  body  Mr.  Choate  took  his 
seat,  as  it  soon  proved,  an  equal  among  equals.  It 
was  a  period  of  great  political  excitement.  General 
Jackson  was  drawing  near  the  close  of  the  first  term 
of  his  Presidency,  sustained  by  warm  friends,  yet  op 
posed  by  some  of  the  ablest  statesmen  in  the  country. 
Mr.  Choate  made  but  two  speeches  during  the  session, 
one  on  Revolutionary  Pensions,  the  other  on  the  Tariff, 
but  these  gave  him  a  position  at  once  among  the  most 
able  and  persuasive  speakers  of  the  House.  One  of 
these  speeches  was  made  under  unusual  circumstances. 
The  subject  of  the  Tariff  had  been  hanging  for  some 
time  in  the  Committee,  when  one  afternoon  Mr.  Choate 
obtained  the  floor.  There  were  but  few  members  pres 
ent  when  he  rose,  but  as  he  continued  to  speak,  one 
after  another  came  from  the  lobbies  to  the  door,  stood 
a  moment  to  listen,  were  caught  and  drawn  to  their 
seats  by  the  irresistible  charm  of  his  mellifluous  utter 
ance,  till  gradually  the  hall  became  full,  and  all,  for 
convenience  of  hearing,  gathered  in  a  circle  about  the 
speaker.  He  had  a  nervous  dread  of  thunder,  and 
was  never  quite  at  ease  in  a  severe  storm.  Before  he 
had  half  finished  his  speech  a  dark  thunder-cloud 
rolled  up  and  suddenly  burst  over  the  Capitol.  Mr. 
Choate  was  standing  directly  under  the  central  sky- 


50  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

light ;  his  face  pale  with  a  blackish  paleness,  and 
his  whole  frame  tremulous  with  unusual  excitement. 
The  hearers  caught  his  emotion  and  listened  intently 
as  he  went  on.  At  the  same  time  the  increasing  dark 
ness,  the  rushing  wind  and  rain,  the  lurid  light  through 
the  distant  windows,  the  red  and  searching  gleams  of 
the  lightning,  the  rattling  peals  of  thunder,  the  circle 
of  upturned  white  faces,  lighted  from  above,  gazing 
earnestly  on  the  speaker,  —  all  made  it  a  scene  not 
easily  to  be  forgotten.  He  spoke  in  the  modest,  defer 
ential  manner  natural  to  him,  with  the  same  delicious, 
uninterrupted  flow  of  choice  words,  and  with  hardly  a 
gesture  except  the  lifting  and  settling  of  the  upper 
part  of  the  body,  and  he  sat  down  amidst  the  enthusi 
asm  of  those  who  heard  him,  members  of  all  parties 
rushing  to  offer  their  congratulations.  His  position  as 
a  parliamentary  orator  was  established. 

•The  tariff  and  nullification  were  the  great  subjects 
which  interested  the  public  mind  during  this  session. 
A  single  letter  to  a  constituent  will  give  an  insight  into 
the  political  hopes  and  fears  of  the  writer,  and  of  those 
who  belonged  to  the  same  party  with  him. 

To  DR.  ANDREW  NICHOLS,  Danvers,  Mass. 

"  WASHINGTON,  14th  Jan.  1832. 

"DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  just  received  your  favor  of  the  9th, 
and  assure  you  that  I  have  read  it  with  interest  and  pleasure. 
You  will  have  seen  before  this  reaches  you,  that  the  battle 
is  already  begun,  and  that  Clay  has  presented  to  the  Senate 
and  the  country  a  clear  and  explicit  outline  of  the  principles 
on  which  the  friends  of  the  tariff  are  willing  to  meet  the  crisis 
occasioned  by  the  extinguishment  of  the  debt.  This  exposi 
tion  of  his  is  undoubtedly  the  result  of  the  combined  wisdom 
of  the  whole  tariff  party  as  here  represented,  and  the  com 
mittees  in  each  branch  will  report  bills  carrying  the  principle 
into  details.  It  is  considered  here  a  sound,  just,  and  saving 


1830-1840.]  COLLEGE  FRIENDS.  51 

creed ;  and  I  should  think  the  system  in  its  great  features  per 
fectly  safe.  It  is  the  all-engrossing  topic.  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  the  excitement  at  the  South  is  to  a  considerable 
degree  artificial.  Certain  it  is,  the  injurious  effects  of  the  tariff 
on  them  are  greatly  overrated.  To  the  cotton  manufacture, 
I  should  say  they  are  very  much  reconciled,  and  consid 
ering  what  avast  market  it  creates  for  their  cotton,  —  tak 
ing  a  sixth  perhaps  of  the  whole  crop,  —  it  would  be  strange  if 
they  were  not.  Coarse  woollens  are  the  special  objects  of  their 
hostility.  Then  they  hate  New  England,  and  they  think,  or 
affect  to  think,  that  the  tariff  raises  the  prices  of  their  pur 
chases,  for  the  sole  benefit  of  the  New  England  manufac 
turer.  But  all  is  safe  and  sure,  and  fifty  years  more  will 
probably  satu-fy  South  Carolina  herself  that  the  New  Eng 
land  cotton  market,  the  increased  value  of  slaves,  diminished 
quantity  and  higher  price  of  cotton  from  the  sugar  culture  of 
Louisiana,  the  fall  of  prices  from  the  competition  of  American 
and  foreign  manufactures  in  our  own  market,  afford  even  her 
some  compensation  for  the  prosperity  of  the  North  and  East. 
The  article  in  the  last  'American  Quarterly'  is  by  Senator 
Johnston,  of  Louisiana,  —  a  State  of  great  importance  to  the 
friends  of  the  system.  All  the  West,  the  Middle  States,  and 
East,  except  Maine  and  New  Hampshire,  are  sound,  and  have 
just  as  little  fancy  for  slow  poison,  and  being  cut  up  in  detail, 
as  they  have  for  violent  instantaneous  death,  or  a  general 
rout.  Clay's  presence  in  the  Senate  this  winter  is  providen 
tial.  Surely  he  is  needed  more  than  in  1824,  if  possible, 
and  he  has  cordial,  most  able,  and  sufficient  support  in  the 
Senate.  His  speech  was  not  showy,  nor  vehement,  but  cool, 
plain,  paternal,  grave,  conciliatory. 

"  With  great  respect,  &c., 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

Among  the  college  friends  of  Mr.  Choate,  sympathiz 
ing  with  him  in  love  of  learning,  and  carrying  his 
pursuits  into  fields  at  that  time  not  much  cultivated 
in  this  country,  was  Rev.  George  Bush,  a  thorough 
scholar,  and  an  eloquent  writer.  He  had  been  giving 
a  careful  attention  to  Oriental  literature,  and  sowing 
the  seed  which  afterwards  grew  into  the  "  Life  of  Mo 
hammed,"  Hebrew  Grammars,  and  Commentaries  on 


52 


MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 


several  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  Many  years 
afterwards  he  adopted  the  opinions  of  Swedenborg,  and 
deservedly  obtained  great  respect  and  influence  among 
the  followers  of  that  mystic  philosopher  and  religious 
apostle.  A  correspondence  with  Mr.  Bush  was  revived 
by  Mr.  Choate  during  this  his  first  session  at  Washing 
ton. 

To  REV.  GEORGE  BUSH. 

"  WASHINGTON,  21  Jan.  1832. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  received  a  few  days  since  a  portion 
of  a  work  on  which  1  heard  you  were  engaged,  addressed  to 
me  in  a  handwriting  which  I  could  not  fail  to  recognize  as 
yours,  although  the  most  recent  specimen  of  it  in  my  posses 
sion  is  now  about  eleven  years  old.  I  embrace  the  generous 
intimation  conveyed  in  this  notice,  to  present  to  you  my  re 
spects,  and  to  extend  to  you,  in  the  language  of  ordination, 
the  right  hand  of  that  old  and  cherished  fellowship  to  which  I 
owe  so  much.  .  .  .  How  have  these  eleven  years,  —  twelve 
years  is  it  not  ?  —  how  has  time  *  which  changes  every  thing, 
man  more  than  any  thing,'  dealt  with  you  ?  What  a  curiosity 
one  feels  to  see  if  he  can  find  the  traces  of  that  imperceptible, 
busy,  and  really  awful  touch  under  which  temple  and  tower 
at  length  fall  down,  upon  the  countenance  and  person,  in  the 
eye,  tones,  and  feelings  of  an  old  friend  long  absent !  In  one 
re.-pect,  this  long  interval  has  been  to  both  of  us  alike  i'ull  of 
short  joy  and  enduring  sorrow,  —  each  having  possessed  and 
lost  an  object  of  dearest  love  which  the  other  never  saw.  But 
I  forgot  that  perhaps  you  never  heard  that  1  have  buried 
within  two  years  a  most  sweet  and  bright  child  of  four  years 
old,  whom  I  would  have  given  a  right  arm  to  save.  It  must 
be  a  vast  alleviation  of  your  far  greater  bereavement  that 
your  child  is  spared. 

"  A  hundred  thousand  recollections  come  over  me  as  I 
write  to  you,  which  stop  me,  make  me  lay  down  my  pen,  and 
rest  my  head  on  my  hand.  Dismissing  them  all,  1  beg  to 
know  why  you  will  not  come  on  here  a  little  while  this  win 
ter  ?  Besides  your  friends  at  Dr.  Lindsley's,  you  will  find  at 
least  one  old  pupil,  —  besides  myself, —  a  Mrs.  II.,  the  wife  of 
a  member  who  remembers  your  term  of  service  at  Mr.  D.'s 
seminary  with  respect  and  affection,  —  and  some  few  other  ob- 


1830-1840.]     LETTER  TO  REV.  GEORGE  BUSH. 


53 


jects  of  interest.  Let  go  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  authorship 
for  a  month  ;  come  and  see  with  how  little  wisdom  the  world  is 
governed,  and  return  with  a  lighter  heart  to  Mohammed  and 
Joseph,  Arabia,  Egypt,  and  the  waters  of  Israel.  I  have  a 
chamber  in  the  third  story  by  myself;  a  long  table,  —  perhaps 
the  most  desirable  of  luxuries, — with  two  windows  looking 
out  upon  the  shores  of  Virginia,  the  setting  sun,  and  the  grave 
of  Washington,  and  here  you  shall  sit  if  you  will,  and  we 
will  sacrifice  to  renewed  friendship  and  auld  lang  syne.  But 
I  forget  all  proprieties,  like  the  Dominie  upon  the  recovery  of 
Bertram.  I  stop  short  therefore,  first  earnestly  hoping  to 
hear  from  you  immediately. 

"  With  great  regard  and  affection,  yours, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 


To  REV.  GEORGE  BUSH. 

t  "  WASHINGTON,  Feb.  12,  1832. 

"Mr  DEAR  SIR, —  I  hardly  can  get  time,  so  'strenuous' 
and  full  of  incident  is  the  idleness  of  our  life  here,  to  write 
a  letter,  except  of  a  Sunday  afternoon,  after  a  morning  at 
church.  Last  Sunday  I  began  to  write  you,  —  was  interrupted, 
and,  like  a  resolution  offered  the  last  month  of  the  session,  it 
has  stood  over  one  week.  ...  I  shall  send  you  what  I  write 
to-day,  though  it  be  no  more  than  a  bare  expression  of  thanks 
for  your  letter,  and  a  hope  to  have  many  more  like  it.  I 
learn  from  Dr.  C.  that  your  brother's  health  compels  him  to 
take  a  voyage,  which  of  course  puts  it  out  of  your  power  to 
continue  your  personal  attentions.  If  this  leaves  you  so 
much  disengaged  that  you  can  come,  I  hope  to  see  you  here 
yet.  You  will  be  driven  from  that  great  city  by  the  cholera 
I  am  afraid,  before  long,  —  an  awful  scourge  of  national  and 
personal  sins,  which  we  can  no  more  escape  in  this  country, 
than  we  can  turn  back  the  east  wind  to  his  sources  in  the 
caves  of  the  sea.  I  board  with  a  physician,  and  have,  there 
fore,  an  instructed  and  reasonable  dread  of  this  business. 
But  whoso  best  knows  Washington,  will  be  least  disposed  to 
recommend  it  as  a  city  of  refuge.  I  was  surprised  at  the  rea 
sons  you  suggest  for  withdrawing  from  the  pulpit.  But  it 
little  matters  what  the  vocation  is,  if  it  be  suited  to  the  meas 
ure,  fulness,  and  desires  of  the  mind  which  it  attaches  to  it 
self.  I  think  educated,  tasteful,  and  knowing  men,  however, 


54  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

should  remember  that  'great  parts  are  a  great  trust,'  and  that 
there  is  responsibleness  connected  as  well  with  the  proper 
selection  of  employment,  as  with  the  discharge  of  its  duties 
when  selected.  I  hold  a  good  book  and  good  sermon  to  be 
not  only  well  per  se,  but  to  be  worthy,  fitting,  and  adequate 
achievements  of  good  minds.  Authorship  and  the  business 
of  instruction  go  well  together,  however,  or  else  the  introduc 
tion  to  Old  Mortality  is  as  much  a  fiction  as  the  main  story. 

"  I  should  think,  quocunque  nomine  gaudes,  however  em 
ployed,  New  York  would  be  a  pleasant  residence  for  you. 
To  be  sure,  as  in  duty  bound,  I  hold  Boston,  with  its  Univer 
sity  society,  rather  the  best  place  to  live  in,  in  all  North 
America,  but  I  cannot  but  see  its  inferiority  in  some  respects 
to  New  York.  You  are  so  near  to  England,  and  so  central 
to  all  the  art,  enterprise,  science,  mind,  and  politics  of  the 
Republic,  that  you  have  great  advantage  over  the  more  pro 
vincial  portions  of  the  country,  so  much  farther  from  which 
the  '  sun  drives  his  chariot.'  There  must  be  a  wide  circle  of 
fine  minds  in  that  city, —  Verplanck  here  is  such  an  one  I 
should  think,  —  '  a  thing  that's  most  uncommon,'  an  honest, 
learned,  modest,  reasonable  man,  —  yet  a  Van  Buren  Jack- 
souian,  —  credite  posteri  ! 

"  What  do  you  think  now,  —  I  have  the  Shakspeare  here 
which  you  gave  me,  and  I  read  a  few  lines  of  Greek  and  Latin 
every  morning,  and  I  trust,  if  we  should  meet,  we  could  take 
each  other  up  just  where  we  were  set  down  twelve  years  ago, 
even  in  the  humanities.  In  all  love  and  honor,  respect  and 
affection,  I  am  sure  we  could.  I  wish  you  would  write  me 
very  often,  assured  always  that  you  wriie  to  a  constant,  as 
well  as  old  friend.  Yours  ever, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

Congress  adjourned  July  14,  1832.  The  summer 
and  autumn  were  full  of  political  excitement.  The 
result  of  the  elections  was  the  renewed  choice  of  An 
drew  Jackson  for  President  (over  Henry  Clay),  by  an 
immense  majority.  The  result  was  not  unexpected. 
"  The  news  from  the  voting  States,"  wrote  Mr.  Choate 
to  Mr.  Everett  on  the  10th  of  November,  u  blows  over 
us  like  a  great  cold  storm.  I  suppose  all  is  lost,  and 
that  the  map  may  be  rolled  up  for  twelve  years  to  come. 


1830-1840.]     MISSIONARIES   TO   THE  INDIANS.  55 

Happy  if  when  it  is  opened  again,  no  State  shall  be 
missing." 

Among  the  subjects  which  deeply  agitated  the  popu 
lar  mind  of  the  North,  especially  of  the  religious  com 
munities,  was  the  treatment  of  the  Southern  Indians, 
by  the  States  within  whose  boundaries  they  existed. 

In  legislating  against  the  Cherokees,  Georgia  had 
passed  a  law  that  no  white  man  should  reside  within 
the  limits  of  the  Cherokee  nation,  without  permission 
from  the  governor  of  the  State,  and  after  having  taken 
an  oath  to  support  and  defend  the  laws  of  Georgia,  on 
penalty  of  imprisonment  at  hard  labor  for  a  term  not 
exceeding  four  years.  Under  this  law  Eev.  Messrs. 
Worcester  and  Butler,  missionaries  of  the  American 
Board  to  the  Indians,  and  five  others,  were  tried  and 
sentenced  in  September,  1831.  After  conviction,  par 
don  was  offered  on  condition  of  obedience  to  the  State 
law.  Five  persons  accepted  the  offer,  but  Messrs. 
Worcester  and  Butler  refused,  and  appealed  to  the 
U.  S.  Supreme  Court.  Mr.  Wirt  and  Mr.  Sergeant 
argued  their  cause.  Georgia  did  not  appear,  but  the 
court,  in  March,  1832,  pronounced  the  law  of  the  State 
unconstitutional.  Georgia  refused  to  obey  the  man 
date  or  reverse  her  decision.  The  missionaries,  how 
ever,  after  about  eighteen  months'  imprisonment,  were 
pardoned  and  released  on  the  16th  of  January,  1833. 
In  the  mean  time  nullification,  as  it  was  called,  had 
assumed  a  portentous  magnitude  in  South  Carolina. 
A  convention  had  been  holden  ;  the  State  bristled  with 
bayonets ;  defiance  was  upon  every  lip.  At  the  head 
of  the  general  government  was  a  man,  who,  whatever 
were  his  faults,  never  lacked  courage,  or  resolution,  or 
patriotism.  In  January,  1833,  General  Jackson  issued 


56  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

his  famous  proclamation  against  South  Carolina.  It 
was  honest,  weighty,  and  irresistible.  Party  feeling 
for  a  while  was  quelled.  The  moral  sentiment  of  the 
country  sustained  the  President.  A  letter  from  Mr. 
Choate  to  his  friend,  Prof.  Bush,  who  seems  for  the 
moment  to  have  taken  a  view  opposed  to  the  President, 
will  indicate  his  own  feeling  and  that  of  many  others 
with  him. 

To  PROFESSOR  GEORGE  BUSH. 

"  WASHINGTON,  Jan.  29, 1833. 

"My  DEAR  FRIEND, —  Your  letter  finds  me  swallowing 
lots  of  wormwood  tea,  —  not  to  sweeten  my  imagination,  but  to 
check  a  furious  sick  headache,  —  a  poor  mood  for  answering 
deep  questions,  though  an  excellent  one  for  appreciating  a  let 
ter  from  a  loved  and  honored  friend.  Did  I  not  talk  about  you 
an  hour  to  Dr.  Bond, —  Tutor  Bond,  —  last  Sunday  evening? 
The  Doctor  stands  against  time  like  '  an  obelisk  fronting  the 
sun.'  He  reminds  me  of  Livy's  pictured  page,  I  warrant  me, 
of  Consuls,  Lictors,  axes,  and  especially  Tarpeian  rocks,  — 
down  which  all  nullifiers  and  states-rights  men  —  except  you 

—  ought  to  be  precipitated,  Senatus  consulto,  edicto,  plebiscite, 

—  Latin  or  no  Latin,  —  under  the  grammar  or  against  it. 
How  the  missionaries  settled  the  matter  with  their  cause  and 
consciences  I  have  never  heard.     Speaking  as  a  politician,  I 
rejoice  that  Georgia  has  been  thus  detached  from  South  Caro 
lina,  and  harnessed  into  the  great  car  of  the  Constitution.     It 
needs  tali  auxilio  et  defensoribus  istis  even.     My  dear  friend, 
there  is  no  more  danger  of  consolidation   (that  is,  until  the 
States  first  go  apart,  snapping  these  ties  of  gauze)  thau  there 
is  of  an   invasion   by  the  real  Xerxes  of  Herodotus.     One 
single  mistake  now,  any  yielding,  any  thing  short  of  a  dead 
march    up  to   the  whole   outermost   limit  of   Constitutional 
power,  and  the  Federal  Government  is  contemptible  for  ever. 
The  Georgia  case  is,  to  be  sure,  a  bad  business.     It  is  a  clear 
case  of  nullification  by  the  State.     But  so  far  as  the  mission 
aries  are  concerned,  the  Federal  Government  has  not  declined 
any  duty.     The  Judiciary  performed  its  part.     The  President 
is  called  on  for  nothing,  until  another  application  to  the  Fed 
eral  Judiciary,  and  that,  you  see,  the  pardon  interposes  to 


1830-1840.J          RE-ELECTION   TO  CONGRESS.  57 

render  unnecessary.  The  two  systems  have  not  directly 
clashed  though  they  bit  their  thumbs.  The  Indians,  —  the 
treaties,  — the  whole  code  of  intercourse  law,  —  all  go  over 
board  of  course.  The  moral  guilt  of  the  S.  C.  case  is  less. 
The  constitutional  enormity  of  the  thing  is  more  palpable 
and  more  tangible,  and  the  precedent,  pejoris  exempli — pessi- 
mi  indeed.  .  .  . 

"  The  session  is  now  one  of  thrilling  interest.  Calhoun  is 
drunk  with  disappointment ;  the  image  of  an  ardent,  imagina 
tive,  intellectual  man,  who  once  thought  it  as  easy  '  to  set  the 
stars  of  glory  on  his  brow '  as  to  put  his  hat  on ;  now  ruined, 
dishonored.  He  has  to  defend  the  most  contemptible  untruth 
in  the  whole  history  of  human  opinion,  and  no  ability  will 
save  him  from  contempt  mentally.  Then  he  hoped  to  recover 
himself  by  a  brilliant  stroke,  permanently  inserting  nullifica 
tion  into  our  polity,  and  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  great 
Convention  of  the  States,  —  a  great  midnight  thunder-storm, 
hail-storm,  meeting  of  witches  and  demons,  round  a  caldron 
big  enough  to  receive  the  disjecta  membra  of  the  Constitution, 
—  thence  never  to  come  a  whole,  still  less  a  blooming,  young 
and  vigorous  form.  Wherefore  pereat.  I  am  somewhat 
weak  from  medicine,  and  must  bid  you  farewell.  Write  me 
daily,  and  reconsider  the  point  of  Consolidation.  I  say  that 
will  come  with  Xerxes.  Truly  yours, 

'"R.  CHOATE." 

In  April,  1833,  having  been  again  nominated  by  the 
National  Republicans,  Mr.  Choate  was  re-elected  to 
Congress  by  an  increased  majority.  Opposition  from 
the  friends  of  Mr.  Crowninshield  had  nearly  died  away, 
and  from  many  of  them  he  received  a  cordial  support. 
Tliejnost,  exciting  subject  of  the^next  session  was  the 
Bank  of  the  United  States.  The  President  had  already 
refused  assent  to  a  bill  re-chartering  this  institution, 
and  soon  after  determined  to  remove  the  public  moneys 
deposited  in  its  vaults.  After  the  adjournment  of 
Congress,  in  March,  1833,  William  J.  Duane,  of  Penn 
sylvania,  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
Mr.  M'Lane  having  been  transferred  to  the  Department 


58  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

of  State.  The  President  at  once  urged  the  new  Secre 
tary  to  remove  the  deposits,  which,  not  being  convinced 
of  the  wisdom  of  the  measure,  he  declined  to  do. 
Upon  this  President  Jackson  removed  him  from  office, 
and  appointed  in  his  place  Roger  B.  Taney,  who  im 
mediately  carried  out  the  wishes  of  the  Executive. 
Great  commercial  distress  followed  this  proceeding. 
The  act  was  condemned  by  many  of  the  friends  of  the 
administration  as  well  as  by  the  opposition.  Confidence 
was  destroyed,  business  interrupted,  industry  checked, 
and  all  moneyed  institutions  deranged,  where  but  a  few 
months  before  every  thing  was  active  and  prosperous. 
The  Senate  was  opposed  to  the  President,  and  passed  a 
resolution  censuring  his  conduct ;  but  the  House  had 
a  large  majority  in  his  favor.  Memorials  were  ad 
dressed  to  Congress  from  various  cities  and  public 
bodies.  The  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means  having 
submitted  a  report  with  reference  to  the  removal  of  the 
deposits,  Mr.  Choaie_a^kl«)ss_ej^^  28th 

March,  1834.  He  had  prepared  himself  to  consider  the 
whole  subject  in  its  constitutional  relations  as  well  as 
financial,  but  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Webster,  con- 
lined  himself  to  the  latter  branch  of  the  subject.  JThe_ 
speech  is  direct,  earnest,  persuasive,  and  conciliatory. 
It  was  with  relation  to  this  speech  that  the  anecdote  is 
told  of  Benjamin  Hardin,  — "  Old  Ben  Hardin"  - 
as  he  was  called,  of  Kentucky,  who  then  heard  Mr. 
Choate  for  the  first  time.  I  give  it  in  the  words  of  one 
who  was  present.  "  Mr.  Hardin  was  an  old  stager  in 
politics,  a  strong-minded,  though  somewhat  rough  indi 
vidual,  who  was  not  disposed  to  much  leniency  in  his 
criticisms  of  the  efforts  of  younger  members.  He  was, 
like  Mr.  Choate,  Whig  in  politics ;  and  several  days,  or 


1830-1840.]        FIRST  FEW  YEARS  IN  BOSTON.  59 

perhaps  weeks,  after  the  speech  of  Mr.  Choate,  he 
made  an  elaborate  argument  on  the  same  question, 
and  on  the  same  side.  At  the  outset  of  his  remarks 
he  stated  that  it  was  his  uniform  rule  not  to  listen  to 
speeches  upon  the  same  side  of  a  question  that  he 
intended  to  discuss,  as  he  wished  to  be  conscious  of 
feeling  that  no  part  of  his  argument  had  been  antici 
pated  by  others,  '  but,'  said  he,  '  I  was  compelled  to 
depart  from  this  rule  once  during  this  debate.  The 
member  from  Massachusetts  rose  to  speak,  and,  in  ac 
cordance  with  my  custom,  I  took  my  hat  to  leave,  lin 
gering  a  moment  just  to  notice  the  tone  of  his  voice 
and  the  manner  of  his  speech.  But  that  moment  was 
fatal  to  my  resolution.  I  became  charmed  by  the  music 
of  his  voice,  and  was  captivated  by  the  power  of  his 
eloquence,  and  found  myself  wholly  unable  to  move 
until  the  last  word  of  his  beautiful  speech  had  been  \f 
uttered.' " 

At  the  close  of  this  session,  having  determined 
remove  to  Boston,  Mr.  Choate  resigned  his  place  in 
Congress.  While  at  Salem  he  had  continued  his  studies 
in  literature,  always  with  him  second  only  in  interest 
to  the  profession  on  which  he  depended  for  daily  bread. 
Besides  the  lecture  on  the  "  Waverley  Novels,"  he  had 
delivered  another  on  Poland,  taking  the  occasion  from 
the  revolution  in  that  country  to  present  a  well-con 
sidered  and  careful  picture  of  her  government,  re 
sources,  and  people,  in  a  style  fervid,  yet  moderate 
and  sustained.  He  also  delivered  an  address  at  the 
centennial  celebration  of  the  settlement  of  Ipswich. 

In  removing  to  Boston  Mr.  Choate  felt  that  the  ex 
periment  was  doubtful.  Some  judicious  friends  advised 
against  the  change.  He  left  an  established  position,  and 


60  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

a  growing  practice,  for  severer  contests  and  a  sharper 
rivalship.  But  generous  rivalry  he  never  feared,  and 
the  result  showed  how  truly  he  estimated  his  own 
powers.  He  had  now  a  family  —  two  daughters  and  a 
son  —  to  stimulate  his  labor.  Two  older  children  he 
had  lost.  They  now  lie  in  the  graveyard  at  Essex. 

Not  long  after  he  came  to  Boston,  as  early  perhaps 
as  1836,  he  gave  a  lecture  on  "  The  Romance  of  the 
Sea."  The  subject  was  one  in  which  he  could  revel. 
The  mystery,  the  power  of  the  ocean,  the  achievements 
upon  its  many  waters,  all  that  poets  have  sung,  all  that 
history  or  fiction  has  told,  went  to  form  the  substance 
or  illustration  of  the  theme.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  of  his  many  lectures.  He  afterwards  lost 
it,  or  it  was  stolen  from  him,  in  New  York.  But  if 
stolen  it  is  really  pleasant  to  think  of  the  disappoint 
ment  of  the  thief.  A  Coptic  manuscript  would  have 
been  to  him  quite  as  legible. 

The  first  six  or  seven  years  in  Boston  were  marked 
mainly  by  a  steady  growth  in  his  profession.  Every 
young  man  who  enters  such  a  community,  bringing  a 
reputation  earned  in  a  different  field,  is  necessarily 
subjected  to  close  scrutiny.  His  ability  is  judged  by 
a  new,  and  perhaps  severer  standard.  He  is  a  stranger 
until  he  has  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  fellowship  of 
a  citizen.  The  pride  of  the  bar,  generous,  but  neces 
sarily  exclusive,  grants  its  honors  to  him  only  who  can 
fairly  win  them.  Mr.  Choate  —  whose  appearance  and 
manner  were  unique,  whose  eloquence  then  was  as 
exuberant,  fervid,  and  rich  as  it  ever  became ;  who, 
however  modest  for  himself,  was  bold  almost  to  rash 
ness  for  his  client ;  who  startled  court  and  jury  by  his 
vehemence,  and  confounded  the  commonplace  and 


1830-1840.]      FIRST  FEW  YEARS  IN  BOSTON.  61 

routine  lawyer  by  the  novelty  and  brilliancy  of  his 
tactics ;  who,  free  from  vulgar  tricks,  was  yet  full  of 
surprises,  and  though  perpetually  delighting  by  the 
novelty  and  beauty  of  his  argument,  was  yet  without 
conceit  or  vanity  —  could  not  at  once  be  fully  under 
stood  and  appreciated.  He  fairly  fought  his  way  to 
eminence ;  created  the  taste  which  he  gratified  ;  and 
demonstrated  the  possibility  of  almost  a  new  variety 
of  eloquence.  It  would  have  been  surprising,  if  he  had 
not  to  contend  with  prejudices  which  time  only  could 
fully  melt  away.  For  several  years  it  was  rather  the 
fashion  to  laugh  at  his  excessive  vehemence  of  gesture, 
and  playful  exaggerations,  but  when  it  was  found  that 
the  flowers  and  myrtle  concealed  a  blade  of  perfect 
temper,  and  as  keen  as  any  that  the  dryest  logician 
could  forge,  that  the  fervent  gesticulator  never  for  one 
moment  lost  command  of  himself  or  his  subject,  nor 
failed  to  hold  the  thought  and  interest  of  the  jury,  as 
the  ancient  mariner  held  the  wedding-guest,  till  con 
vinced,  delighted,  entranced,  they  were  eager  to  find  a 
verdict  for  his  client,  —  doubt  gave  place  to  confidence, 
and  disparagement  to  admiration.  During  these  six 
or  seven  years  he  was  steadily  growing  in  knowledge 
and  in  influence.  He  made  the  more  familiar  ac 
quaintance  with  the  leaders  of  the  Suffolk  bar,  then 
unsurpassed  in  the  whole  land  for  ability  and  learning. 
There  he  met  (not  to  speak  of  the  living)  the  polished 
rhetoric  of  Franklin  Dexter,  the  subtle  and  powerful 
logic  of  Jeremiah  Mason,  and  the  tremendous  weight 
and  authority  of  Webster.  He  heard  the  law  ex 
pounded  and  declared  by  the  integrity  and  learning 
and  wisdom  of  Samuel  Hubbard  and  Samuel  Sumner 
Wilde  and  Lemuel  Shaw.  To  meet  such  competitors, 


62  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

to  stand  unharmed  before  the  judgments  of  such  a 
tribunal,  compelled  the  most  diligent  and  unremitting 
study.  Distinction  could  be  attained  only  by  merit. 
Eminence  was  itself  proof  of  high  abilities  and  of  strenu 
ous  labor.  Preserving  his  interest  in  letters,  he  still 
found  time  to  deliver  a  number  of  lectures  before 
associations  of  young  men,  and  with  ever  increasing 
popularity.  He  suffered  also  a  severe  domestic  calamity. 
Two  daughters  were  born  to  him  in  Boston.  Of  these 
the  younger,  Caroline,  was  in  1840  three  years  old. 
To  all  his  children  he  was  tenderly  attached,  and  to 
her,  perhaps  as  being  the  youngest,  especially.  She 
was  a  beautiful  child,  and  he  never  failed,  coming  home 
late  from  the  labors  of  his  office,  to  go  up  to  the  room 
where  she  was  sleeping,  to  give  her  an  evening  kiss. 
The  following  account  of  her  last  hours,  in  the  words 
of  a  clergyman,  who,  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  Choate's 
pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Adams,  was  called  to  be  present,  will 
show  the  extreme  tenderness  and  affection  of  the  father. 
On  the  day  of  her  death  Mr.  Choate  had  sent  him  the 
following  note :  — 

"BOSTON,  Saturday  morning. 
"  To  Rev.  Hulbard  Winslow :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  apprehensive  that  I  am  about 
losing  my  youngest  child,  and  I  take  the  liberty  to  ask  you, 
if  not  very  inconvenient,  to  do  us  the  great  kindness  of  bap 
tizing  her.  Her  mother  is  a  member  of  a  church,  and  this 
ordinance  has  been  accidentally  delayed. 

"  I  am  aware  of  the  freedom  of  this  request,  but  I  hope  the 
severity  and  peculiarity  of  our  trying  circumstances  will 
excuse  it.  It  seems  to  us  that  3  o'clock  P.M.,  or  a  little  after, 
may  be  as  late  as  we  shall  desire  to  delay,  —  perhaps  too 
late. 

"  If  you  can  consent  to  do  us  this  favor,  and  will  apprise 
me  of  the  decision,  I  will  send  a  carriage  for  you. 
"  Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 


1830-1840.]     DEATH  OF  HIS  YOUNGEST  CHILD.  63 

"  Entering  the  chamber,  says  Dr.  Winslow,  "  at  the 
appointed  time,  I  found  the  family  all  assembled.  The 
beautiful  little  girl  of  perhaps  three  years  lay  dying. 
Mr.  Choate  said,  '  I  hope  you  will  pardon  this  liberty. 
We  have  given  our  dear  child  to  God,  and  we  think 
He  is  about  to  take  her ;  but  we  have  neglected  her 
baptism.'  I  said  a  few  words  of  the  ordinance  as  not 
essential  to  the  salvation  of  the  child,  but  the  answer 
of  a  good  conscience  on  the  part  of  the  parents.  He 
assented,  and  said  he  desired  to  do  his  duty  in  that 
particular.  All  kneeled  in  prayer,  and  after  the  ordi 
nance  and  a  few  remarks,  I  was  about  to  retire,  to 
leave  the  weeping  family  to  the  sacredness  of  their 
domestic  sorrow,  when  Mr.  Choate  took  my  hand  and 
besought  me  to  remain  with  them  while  the  child  lived. 
I  consented  to  remain  till  evening,  when  I  had  another 
engagement.  He  stood  by  the  fireplace,  resting  his 
elbows  on  the  marble,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands, 
evidently  absorbed  in  prayer.  Mrs.  Choate  was  bend 
ing  over  the  pillow,  with  the  yearning  tenderness  of  a 
mother,  and  the  older  children  and  servants  stood 
around  in  silent  grief;  while  I  sat  by  the  bedside  ob 
serving  the  child's  symptoms,  and  sometimes  repeating 
a  passage  of  Scripture  or  a  pertinent  stanza  of  poetry. 
And  thus  a  full  hour  passed  in  silence,  in  prayer,  in  tears, 
in  communion  with  death  and  eternity,  Mr.  Choate  re 
maining  motionless  as  a  statue  during  the  whole  time. 
Perceiving  the  pulse  failing  and  the  breath  becoming 
very  short  and  difficult,  I  said,  '  Mr.  Choate,  I  fear  the 
dear  child  is  just  leaving  us.'  He  then  came  to  the 
bedside,  embraced  her,  kissed  her  three  times,  and  then 
returned  and  resumed  his  position  as  before.  All 
the  family  followed  him  in  the  parting  kiss.  A  few 


64  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.  [CHAP.  II. 

moments  after,  the  angel  spirit  fled.  I  closed  the 
sightless  eyes,  and  said,  '  My  dear  Mr.  Choate,  your 
sweet  child  is  in  heaven  ! '  He  burst  instantly  into  a 
flood  of  tears,  and  sobbed  aloud.  He  did  not  change 
his  position,  but  remained  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands,  and  the  tears  pouring  like  rain-drops  upon  the 
hearth-stone.  And  thus  he  continued,  until  duty  com 
pelled  me  to  leave  the  chamber  of  death.  He  then 
came  and  thanked  me,  and  said  with  deep  emotion, 
'  I  feel  greatly  comforted  ;  my  dear  child  has  gone 
home.  It  was  God's  will  to  take  her,  and  that  is 
enough.'  " 


1841-1843.]      PROFESSIONAL  ADVANCEMENT.  65 


CHAPTER   III. 

1841-1843. 

Professional  Advan^pmpnt — Letters  to  Richard  S.  Storrs,  Jr.  —  Chosen_ 
Senator  in  place  of  Mr.  Webster — Death  of  General  Harrison  — 
Eulogy  in  Faneni]  Hall  —  Extra  Session  of  Congress  —  Spf^pnh  on   ^ 
the  M'Leod   Case  —  The  Fiscal  Bank  Bill  —  Collision  with   ML 
Clay  —  NbriiTnation  of  Mr.  -Evereft'as  Minister  to  England  —  Letter 
to  Mr.  Sumner  —  Letters  to  his  Son — The  next  Session — j>peech_ 
on,  providing  further  Remprlinl  .TnstiW  in  thn  TTnitnrl  Stitnr  Ctmrta 
—  Letters  to  Mr.  Sumner  —  The  North  Eastern  Bnundnry  Qnc*i 
tion — Journal. 

MR.  CHOATE'S  professional  advancement  in  Boston  was 
no  accident,  nor  the  result  of  peculiarly  favoring  cir 
cumstances.  It  was  the  reward  of  untiring  diligence 
as  well  as  of  great  ability.  Every  day  he  was  gaining 
ground,  enlarging  and  consolidating  his  knowledge, 
and  invigorating  his  faculties.  A  few  years  served  to 
give  him  a  position  second  to  none  except  the  ac 
knowledged  and  long-tried  leaders  of  the  bar.  His 
consummate  judgment  in  the  conduct  of  a  cause,  no 
less  than  his  brilliant  power  as  an  advocate,  commanded 
respect  from  the  most  able.  He  knew  when  to  speak, 
and,  what  is  more  difficult,  when  to  be  silent.  In  the 
most  intricate  and  doubtful  case,  when  fairly  engaged, 
he  did  not  allow  himself  to  despair,  and  was  often  suc 
cessful  against  the  greatest  odds.  In  defeat  he  was 
never  sullen,  and  in  victory  he  bore  himself  with  so 
much  modesty  and  gentleness,  that  few  envied  his  suc- 

5 


66  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  III. 

cess.  He  especially  attached  to  himself  the  younger 
members  of  the  profession  by  unvarying  kindness. 
He  had  great  sympathy  for  a  young  lawyer.  His 
advice  and  aid  were  always  ready ;  voluntarily  offered 
if  he  thought  they  were  needed ;  and  if  sought,  cheer 
fully  and  freely  bestowed.  He  assumed  no  superiority 
in  this  intercourse,  but  by  a  kind  suggestion  or  a  few 
words  of  encouragement,  insured  success  by  inspiring 
confidence. 

The  following  letter  is  in  answer  to  one  asking  his 
advice  as  to  a  course  of  reading.  The  gentleman  to 
whom  it  was  written,  had  entered  his  office  as  a  student, 
but  subsequently,  on  account  of  Mr.  Choate's  probable 
absence  from  Boston,  went  to  spend  a  year  in  general 
studies  at  Andover. 

To  RICHARD  S.  STORKS,  Jn. 

"  BOSTON,  2d  Jan.  1841. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  should  have  been  very  happy  to  Answer 
your  letter  before  this,  but  a  succession  of  engagements,  some 
of  them  of  a  painful  kind,  have  made  it  impossible.  Kven 
now  I  can  do  very  little  more  than  congratulate  you  on  being 
able  to  spend  a  year  at  such  a  place,  and  to  suggest  that  very 
general  '  macte  virtute]  which  serves  only  to  express  good 
wishes  without  doing  any  thing  to  help  realize  them.  I  should 
be  embarrassed,  if  I  were  in  your  situation,  to  know  exactly 
what  to  do.  The  study  of  a  profession  is  a  prescribed  and 
necessary  course,  —  that  of  general  literature,  or  of  literature 
preparatory  to  our,  or  to  any  profession,  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
so  limitless,  —  so  indeterminate,  —  so -much  a  matter  of  taste, 
—  it  depends  so  much  on  the  intellectual  and  moral  traits  of 
the  student,  what  he  needs  and  what  he  ought  to  shun,  that  an 
educated  young  man  can  really  judge  better  for  himself  than 
another  for  him. 

"  As  immediately  preparatory  to  the  study  of  the  Law, 
I  should  follow  the  usual  suggestion,  to  review  thoroughly 
English  history,  —  Constitutional  history  in  Hallam  particu 
larly,  and  American  Constitutional  and  Civil  history  in  Pitkin 


1841-1843.]      LETTERS  TO  R.  S.  STORRS,  JR.  67 

and  Story.  Rutherford's  Institutes,  and  the  best  course  of 
Moral  Philosophy  you  can  find,  will  be  very  valuable  intro 
ductory  consolidating  matter.  Aristotle's  Politics,  and  all  of 
Edmund  Burke's  works,  and  all  of  Cicero's  works,  would 
form  an  admirable  course  of  reading,  'a  library  of  eloquence 
and  reason,'  to  form  the  sentiments  and  polish  the  tastes,  and 
fertilize  and  enlarge  the  mind  of  a  young  man  aspiring  to  be 
a  lawyer  and  statesman.  Cicero  and  Burke  I  would  know 
by  heart ;  both  superlatively  great  —  the  latter  the  greatest, 
living  in  a  later  age,  belonging  to  the  modern  mind  and 
genius,  though  the  former  had  more  power  over  an  audience, 
—  both  knew  every  thing. 

"  I  would  read  every  day  one  page  at  least,  —  more  if  you 
can,  —  in  some  fine  English  writer,  solely  for  elegant  style 
and  expression.  William  Pinkney  said  to  a  friend  of  mine 
'  he  never  read  a  fine  sentence  in  any  author  without  com 
mitting  it  to  memory.'  The  result  was  decidedly  the  most 
splendid  and  most  powerful  English  spoken  style  I  ever 
heard. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  have  written  so  hurriedly  in  the  midst 
of  a  trial,  but  I  preferred  it  to  longer  silence.  Accept  my 
best  wishes,  and  assure  yourself  I  am 

"  Very  truly  yours,  R.  CHOATE." 

Subsequently,  when  Mr.  Storrs  decided  to  abandon 
the  study  of  law  for  a  theological  course,  Mr.  Choate 
wrote  him :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  just  received  your  letter  and 
hasten  to  say  that  I  have  been  much  interested  by  it.  The 
entire  result  has  been  much  as  I  anticipated  ;  and,  all  con 
siderations  of  duty  apart,  I  am  inclined  to  think  as  a  mere 
matter  of  rational  happiness,  —  happiness  from  books,  culture, 
the  social  affections,  the  estimation  of  others,  and  a  sense  of 
general  usefulness  and  of  consideration,  you  have  chosen 
wisely.  Duty,  however,  I  think  was  clear,  and  when  it  is 
clear  it  is  peremptory. 

"  I  should  not  accept  a  fee,  of  course,  under  such  circum 
stances,  but  shall  expect  you  to  send  me  all  the  sermons  you 
print,  and  that  they  be  good  ones. 
k'  I  am  very  truly 

"  Your  friend  and  serv't, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE. 
"  SENATE  CHAMBER, 
"  30th  March." 


68  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  III. 

Iii  1841,  Mr.  Webster  having  accepted  the  office  of 
Secretary  of  State  under  General  Harrison,  it  became 
necessary  for  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts  to  elect 
another  Senator  to  till  his  place.  The  position  was 
both  delicate  and  difficult.  The  public  wishes  soon 
pointed  to  Mr.  Choate,  and  his  friends  proceeded  to 
consult  him  about  the  matter.  The  offer  was  at  first 
met  by  a  decided  refusal,  nor  was  it  until  after  re 
peated  interviews,  and  the  greatest  urgency,  that  he 
finally  permitted  his  name  to  be  brought  before  the 
Legislature,  and  then  only  with  the  express  under 
standing  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  resign  the  place 
within  two  or  three  years.  The  causes  of  this  re 
luctance  to  accept  so  high  and  honorable  and  attractive 
an  office  were  probably  many  and  complicated.  His 
natural  modesty,  a  distaste  for  the  annoyances  of  public 
life,  a  loathing  of  political  schemers,  plans  of  study 
and  achievement  with  which  public  duties  would  inter 
fere,  the  necessity  of  an  income,  the  love  of  personal 
independence,  —  all  these  undoubtedly  influenced  his 
judgment. 

Before  taking  his  seat,  the  new  Senator  was  called 
upon  to  deliver  a  eulogium  upon  the  lamented  Presi 
dent,  in  Faneuil  Hall.  It  was  a  sincere  and  eloquent 
tribute  to  one  whom  the  nation  loved  as  a  man  even 
more  than  it  respected  as  a  President.  General  Har 
rison  was  inaugurated  on  the  4th  of  March,  1841.  He 
died  on  the  4th  of  April,  before  having  had  time  to 
establish  distinctly  the  policy  of  the  administration, 
but  having  summoned  an  extra  session  of  Congress  to 
meet  on  the  81st  of  May.  The  Vice-President,  Mr. 
Tyler,  immediately  assumed  the  duties  of  the  Presi 
dency,  not  without  solicitude  on  the  part  of  the  Whigs, 


1841-1813.]        FIRST  SPEECH  IN  THE  SENATE.  69 

with  whom  he  had  not  always  been  identified,  but  yet 
with  prevailing  hopes.  "The  President,"  says  Mr. 
Choate  in  a  letter  shortly  after  reaching  Washington, 
"  is  in  high  spirits,  —  making  a  good  impression.  He 
will  stand  by  Mr.  Webster,  and  the  talk  of  an  un 
friendly  conservative  action  is  true,  but  not  terrifying." 
Mr.  Choate's  first  speech  in  the  Senate  was  upon  a 
subject  on  which  the  public  mind  in  some  parts  of  the 
country  had  been  deeply  agitated,  and  which  involved 
difficult  questions  of  international  law.  It  was  the 
case  of  Alexander  M'Leod,  charged  with  burning  the 
Steamer  Caroline.  This  forward  and  boastful  person, 
who  seems  not  to  have  been  engaged  at  all  in  the 
exploit  in  which  he  had  professed  to  be  a  prominent 
actor,  having  ventured  into  the  State  of  New  York, 
was  arrested  on  an  indictment  found  against  him 
shortly  after  the  destruction  of  the  boat,  and  held  for 
trial  by  the  State  Courts.  The  British  Government 
assumed  the  act,  by  whomsoever  done,  as  its  own,  and 
through  its  minister,  Mr.  Fox,  demanded  the  release 
of  the  prisoner.  This  demand  could  not  be  complied 
with,  since  the  prisoner  was  arraigned  before  the  State 
Courts  ;  but  the  Attorney-General  of  the  United  States, 
Mr.  Crittenden,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Webster, 
then  Secretary  of  State,  was  sent  to  observe  the  trial 
and  render  such  assistance  as  should  be  proper  and 
necessary.  The  subject  was  brought  before  Congress 
by  the  message  of  the  President,  when  the  policy  of  the 
Government,  and  especially  the  instructions  and  letter 
of  Mr.  Webster,  were  severely  censured  by  Mr.  Benton, 
Mr.  Buchanan,  and  Mr.  Calhoun,  and  defended  by  Mr. 
Rives,  Mr.  Choate,  Mr.  Huntington,  and  Mr.  Preston. 
In  the  House,  the  administration  was  sustained  with 


TO  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  III. 

great  ability  by  John  Quincy  Adams  and  Mr.  Cashing. 
The  speech  of  Mr.  Choate  called  forth  warm  commen 
dations  from  all  parties.  "  It  was  the  first  appearance 
of  the  Senator  in  debate  here,"  said  Mr.  Buchanan,  in 
his  reply,  "  and,  judging  of  others  by  myself,  I  must 
say,  that  those  who  have  listened  to  him  once  will  be 
anxious  to  hear  him  again." 

It  was  during  this  extra  session,  when  Mr.  Choate 
was  quite  new  to  the  Senate,  that  a  slight  collision 
took  place  between  himself  and  Mr.  Clay,  the  nature 
and  importance  of  which  were,  perhaps  intentionally, 
exaggerated  by  the  party  newspapers.  Mr.  Clay  was 
the  leader  of  the  Whigs  in  the  Senate,  flushed  with 
success,  urgent  of  favorite  measures,  somewhat  dis 
trustful  of  the  new  President,  Mr.  Tyler,  and  excited 
by  a  report  of  the  formation  of  a  new  party  in  opposition 
to  his  interests.  The  finances  of  the  country  had,  for 
several  years,  been  much  deranged,  and  the  great 
immediate  objects  of  the  Whigs,  on  coming  into  power, 
were  the  repeal  of  the  Independent  Treasury  Acts,  the 
re-establishing,  in  some  form,  of  a  National  Bank,  and 
an  adequate  provision  for  the  public  revenue.  The 
first  of  these  objects  was  accomplished  without  difficulty 
or  delay.  The  bill  for  the  purpose  passed  the  Senate 
and  the  House  by  large  majorities,  and  was  at  once 
approved  by  the  President.  The  second  object,  the 
incorporation  of  a  bank,  was  a  more  delicate  and 
difficult  matter.  Mr.  Tyler  was  known  to  be  opposed 
to  the  old  United  States  Bank,  though  it  was  thought 
that  a  charter  might  be  framed  to  which  he  would  have 
no  objection.  Accordingly  Mr.  Clay,  early  in  the  ses 
sion,  moved  a  call  upon  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
Mr.  Ewing,  for  the  plan  of  a  bank.  It  was  given,  and 


1841-1843.]  SPEECH  ON  BANK  BILL.  71 

coming  from  such  a  source,  was  presumed  to  be  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  ideas  of  the  President.  Upon  this 
report  a  bill  was  modelled.  To  this  bill  Mr.  Rives  of 
Virginia  offered  an  amendment,  —  which  he  supported 
by  an  able  argument,  —  making  the  assent  of  the  States 
necessary  for  the  establishment  of  branches  within  their 
limits.  Mr.  Clay  earnestly  opposed  the  proposition, 
and  Mr.  Preston  with  equal  earnestness  sustained  it. 
On  the  next  day  Mr.  Choate  made  a  short  speech 
in  favor  of  Mr.  Rives's  amendment,  not  because  he 
doubted  the  constitutionality  of  the  bill  as  reported 
by  the  committee,  but  mainly  from  considerations  of 
policy. 

"  I  do  not  vote  for  the  bill,"  he  said,  "  from  any 
doubt  of  the  constitutional  power  of  Congress  to  es 
tablish  branches  all  over  the  States,  possessing  the  dis 
counting  function,  directly  and  adversely  against  their 
united  assent.  I  differ  in  this  particular  wholly  from 
the  Senator  who  moves  the  amendment.  I  have  no 
more  doubt  of  your  power  to  make  such  a  bank  and 
such  branches  anywhere,  than  of  your  power  to  build 
a  post-office  or  a  custom-house  anywhere.  This  ques 
tion  for  me  is  settled,  and  settled  rightly.  I  have  the 
honor  and  happiness  to  concur  on  it  with  all,  or  almost 
all,  our  greatest  names ;  with  our  national  judicial 
tribunal,  and  with  both  the  two  great  original  political 
parties ;  with  Washington,  Hamilton,  Marshall,  Story, 
Madison,  Monroe,  Crawford,  and  with  the  entire  Re 
publican  administration  and  organization  of  1816  and 
1817. 

"  Bat  it  does  not  follow,  because  we  possess  this  or 
any  other  power,  that  it  is  wise  or  needful,  in  any  given 
case,  to  attempt  to  exert  it.  We  may  find  ourselves 


72  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  III. 

so  situated  that  we  cannot  do  it  if  we  would,  for  want 
of  the  concurrence  of  other  judgments  ;  and  therefore 
a  struggle  might  be  as  unavailing  as  it  would  be  mis 
chievous  and  unseemly.  We  may  find  ourselves  so 
situated  that  we  ought  not  to  do  it  if  we  could.  All 
things  which  are  lawful  are  not  convenient,  are  not 
practicable,  are  not  wise,  are  not  safe,  are  not  kind. 
A  sound  and  healing  discretion,  therefore,  the  moral 
coercion  of  irresistible  circumstances,  may  fitly  temper 
and  even  wholly  restrain  the  exercise  of  the  clearest 
power  ever  belonging  to  human  government." 

He  then  proceeded  to  state  his  reasons  for  voting 
for  the  amendment.  The  first  was,  that  the  country 
greatly  needed  the  bank,  and  in  his  opinion  that  result 
would  be  much  sooner  and  more  surely  reached  by 
admitting  the  bill  as  amended.  "  By  uniting  here  on 
this  amendment,"  he  said,  "  you  put  an  effective  bank 
in  operation,  to  some  useful  and  substantial  extent,  by 
the  first  of  January.  Turn  now  to  the  other  alter 
native.  Sir,  if  you  adhere  to  the  bill  reported  by  the 
Committee,  I  fully  believe  you  pass  no  bank  charter 
this  session.  I  doubt  whether  you  carry  it  through 
Congress.  If  you  can,  I  do  not  believe  you  can  make 
it  a  law.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  fail  to  do  so.  I  do 
not  enter  on  the  reasons  of  my  belief.  The  rules  of 
orderly  proceeding  here,  decorum,  pride,  regret,  would 
all  prevent  my  doing  it.  I  have  no  personal  or  private 
grounds  for  the  conviction  which  holds  me  fast ;  but  I 
judge  on  notorious,  and  to  my  mind,  decisive  indi 
cations  ;  and  I  know  that  it  is  my  duty  to  act  on  my 
belief,  whether  well  or  ill  founded,  and  however  con- 
jecturally  derived." 

Another  reason  assigned  for  his  vote  was,  that  it 
would  lead  to  united  counsels  and  actions. 


1841-1843.]  SPEECH   ON  BANK  BILL.  73 

"  In  a  larger  view  of  the  matter,"  he  went  on  to  say, 
"  is  it  not  in  a  high  degree  desirable  to  make  such  a 
charter,  that  while  it  secures  to  the  people  all  that  such 
kind  of  instrumentality  as  a  bank  can  secure,  we  may 
still,  in  the  mode  and  details  of  the  thing,  respect  the 
scruples  and  spare  the  feelings  of  those  who,  just  as 
meritoriously,  usefully,  and  conspicuously  as  your 
selves,  are  members  of  our  political  association,  but 
who  differ  with  you  on  the  question  of  constitutional 
power  ?  If  I  can  improve  the  local  currency,  diffuse  a 
sound  and  uniform  national  one,  facilitate,  cheapen, 
and  systematize  the  exchanges,  secure  the  safe-keeping 
and  transmission  of  the  public  money,  promote  com 
merce,  and  deepen  and  multiply  the  springs  of  a 
healthful  credit  by  a  bank,  and  can  at  the  same  time 
so  do  it  as  to  retain  the  cordial  constant  co-operation, 
and  prolong  the  public  usefulness  of  friends  who  hold 
a  different  theory  of  the  Constitution,  is  it  not  just  so 
much  clear  gain  ?  I  was  struck,  in  listening  to  the 
senator  from  Virginia  yesterday,  with  the  thought,  how 
idle,  how  senseless  it  is  to  spend  time  in  deploring  or 
being  peevish  about  the  inveterate  constitutional  opin 
ions  of  the  community  he  so  ably  represents.  There 
the  opinions  are.  What  will  you  do  with  them  ?  You 
cannot  change  them.  You  cannot  stride  over  or  dis 
regard  them.  There  they  are  ;  what  will  you  do  with 
them  ?  Compromise  the  matter.  Adjust  it,  if  you 
can,  in  such  sort  that  they  shall  neither  yield  their 
opinions,  nor  you  yield  yours.  Give  to  the  people  all 
the  practical  good  which  a  bank  can  give,  and  let  the 
constitutional  question,  whether  Congress  can  make  a 
bank  by  its  own  power  or  not,  stand  over  for  argument 
on  the  last  day  of  the  Greek  Kalends,  when  the  dis- 


74  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

putants  may  have  the  world  all  to  themselves  to  wrangle 
it  out  in  !  Yes,  Sir,  compromise  it.  Our  whole  his 
tory  is  but  a  history  of  compromises.  You  have  com 
promised  in  larger  things  ;  do  it  in  less,  do  it  in  this. 
You  have  done  it  for  the  sake  of  the  Union  ;  do  it  for 
the  sake  of  the  party  which  is  doing  it  for  the  sake  of 
the  Union.  You  never  made  one  which  was  received 
with  wider  and  sincerer  joy  than  this  would  he.  Do  it 
then.  Do  as  your  fathers  did  when  they  came  together, 
delegates  from  the  slave  States,  and  delegates  from  the 
free,  representatives  of  planters,  of  mechanics,  of  manu 
facturers,  and  the  owners  of  ships,  the  cool  and  slow 
New  England  men,  and  the  mercurial  children  of  the 
sun,  and  sat  down  side  by  side  in  the  presence  of 
Washington,  to  frame  this  more  perfect  Union.  Ad 
minister  the  Constitution  in  the  temper  that  created  it. 
Do  as  you  have  yourselves  done  in  more  than  one  great 
crisis  of  your  affairs,  when  questions  of  power  and  of 
administration  have  shaken  these  halls  and  this  whole 
country,  and  an  enlarged  and  commanding  spirit,  not 
yet  passed  away  from  our  counsels,  assisted  you  to  rule 
the  uproar,  and  to  pour  seasonable  oil  on  the  rising  sea. 
Happy,  thrice  happy,  for  us  all,  if  the  senator  from 
Kentucky  would  allow  himself  to-day  to  win  another 
victory  of  conciliation." 

"  Let  me  say,  Sir,"  he  went  on  after  a  brief  inter 
vening  statement  on  the  nature  of  the  amendment, 
"  that  to  administer  the  contested  powers  of  the  Con 
stitution  is,  for  those  of  you  who  believe  that  they  exist, 
at  all  times  a  trust  of  difficulty  and  delicacy.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  should  not  venture  to  suggest  this 
general  direction  for  the  performance  of  that  grave  duty. 


1841-1843.]  SPEECH   ON  BANK  BILL.  75 

Steadily  and  strongly  assent  their  existence  ;  do  not 
surrender  them  ;  retain  them  with  a  provident  forecast ; 
for  the  time  may  come  when  you  will  need  to  enforce 
them  by  the  whole  moral  and  physical  strength  of  the 
Union  ;  but  do  not  exert  them  at  all  so  long  as  you  can, 
by  other  less  offensive  expedients  of  wisdom,  effectually 
secure  to  the  people  all  the  practical  benefits  which 
you  believe  they  were  inserted  into  the  Constitution  to 
secure.  Thus  will  the  Union  last  longest,  and  do  most 
good.  To  exercise  a  contested  power  without  neces 
sity,  on  a  notion  of  keeping  up  the  tone  of  government, 
is  not  much  better  than  tyranny,  and  very  improvident 
and  impolitic  tyranny,  too.  It  is  turning  i  extreme 
medicine  into  daily  bread.'  It  forgets  that  the  final 
end  of  government  is  not  to  exert  restraint,  but  to  do 
good. 

"  Within  this  general  view  of  the  true  mode  of  ad 
ministering  contested  powers,  I  think  the  measure  we 
propose  is  as  wise  as  it  is  conciliatory ;  wise  because  it 
is  conciliatory ;  wise  because  it  reconciles  a  strong 
theory  of  the  Constitution  with  a  discreet  and  kind 
administration  of  it.  I  desire  to  give  the  country  a 
bank.  Well,  here  is  a  mode  in  which  I  can  do  it. 
Shall  I  refuse  to  do  it  in  that  mode  because  I  cannot  at 
the  same  time  and  by  the  same  operation  gain  a  victory 
over  the  settled  constitutional  opinions,  and  show  my 
contempt  for  the  ancient  and  unappeasable  jealousy 
and  prejudices  of  not  far  from  half  of  the  American 
people  ?  Shall  I  refuse  to  do  it  in  that  mode  because 
I  cannot  at  the  same  time  and  by  the  same  operation 
win  a  triumph  of  constitutional  law  over  political 
associates  who  agree  with  me  on  nine  in  ten  of  all  the 
questions  which  divide  the  parties  of  the  country ; 


76  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  III. 

whose  energies  and  eloquence,  under  many  an  October 
and  many  an  August  sun,  have  contributed  so  much 
to  the  transcendent  reformation  which  has  brought  you 
into  power  ? 

"  There  is  one  consideration  more  which  has  had 
some  influence  in  determining  my  vote.  I  confess  that 
I  think  that  a  bank  established  in  the  manner  contem 
plated  by  this  amendment  stands,  in  the  actual  cir 
cumstances  of  our  time,  a  chance  to  lead  a  quieter  and 
more  secure  life,  so  to  speak,  than  a  bank  established 
by  the  bill.  I  think  it  worth  our  while  to  try  to  make, 
what  never  yet  was  seen,  a  popular  National  Bank. 
Judging  from  the  past  and  the  present,  from  the  last 
years  of  the  last  bank,  and  the  manner  in  which  its 
existence  was  terminated  ;  from  the  tone  of  debate  and 
of  the  press,  and  the  general  indications  of  public 
opinion,  I  acknowledge  an  apprehension  that  such  an 
institution, —  created  by  a  direct  exertion  of  your 
power,  throwing  off  its  branches  without  regard  to  the 
wishes  or  wants  of  the  States,  as  judged  of  by  them 
selves,  and  without  any  attempt  to  engage  their  aux 
iliary  co-operation,  diminishing  the  business  and 
reducing  the  profits  of  the  local  banks,  and  exempted 
from  their  burdens,  —  that  such  an  institution  may  not 
find  so  quiet  and  safe  a  field  of  operation  as  is  desir 
able  for  usefulness  and  profit.  I  do  not  wish  to  see  it 
standing  like  a  fortified  post  on  a  foreign  border,— 
never  wholly  at  peace,  always  assailed,  always  belli 
gerent;  not  falling  perhaps,  but  never  safe,  the  nurse 
and  the  prize  of  unappeasable  hostility.  No,  Sir.  Even 
such  an  institution,  under  conceivable  circumstances, 
it  might  be  our  duty  to  establish  and  maintain  in  the 
face  of  all  opposition  and  to  the  last  gasp.  But  so 


1841-1843.]  COLLISION  WITH  MR.  CLAY.  77 

much  evil  attends  such  a  state  of  things,  so  much  in 
security,  so  much  excitement ;  it  would  be  exposed  to 
the  pelting  of  such  a  pitiless  storm  of  the  press  and 
public  speech  ;  so  many  demagogues  would  get  good 
livings  by  railing  at  it ;  so  many  honest  men  would 
really  regard  it  as  unconstitutional,  and  as  dangerous 
to  business  and  liberty,  —  that  it  is  worth  an  exertion 
to  avoid  it.  ...  Sir,  I  desire  to  see  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States  become  a  cherished  domestic  institution, 
reposing  in  the  bosom  of  our  law  and  of  our  attachments. 
Established  by  the  concurrent  action  or  on  the  applica 
tion  of  the  States,  such  might  be  its  character.  There 
will  be  a  struggle  on  the  question  of  admitting  the  dis 
count  power  into  the  States ;  much  good  sense  and 
much  nonsense  will  be  spoken  and  written ;  but  such 
a  struggle  will  be  harmless  and  brief,  and  when  that 
is  over,  all  is  over.  The  States  which  exclude  it  will 
hardly  exasperate  themselves  farther  about  it.  Those 
which  admit  it  will  soothe  themselves  with  the  consid 
eration  that  the  act  is  their  own,  and  that  the  existence 
of  this  power  of  the  branch  is  a  perpetual  recognition  of 
their  sovereignty.  Thus  might  it  sooner  cease  to  wear 
the  alien,  aggressive,  and  privileged  aspect  which  has 
rendered  it  offensive,  and  become  sooner  blended  with 
the  mass  of  domestic  interests,  cherished  by  the  same 
regards,  protected  by  the  same  and  by  a  higher  law."  : 
It  was  during  this  speech  that  Mr.  Clay,  who  had 
left  his  owTn  seat,  and,  through  the  courtesy  of  a  younger 
member,  had  taken  another  nearer  Mr.  Choate,  rose 
and  interrupted  the  speaker  with  an  inquiry  as  to  the 
grounds  of  his  knowledge  that  the  Bank  Bill  would  not 
pass  without  the  amendment.  The  intimacy  of  Mr. 

1  Appendix  to  Congressional  Globe,  ITuly,  1841,  pp.  355,  356. 


78  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

Choate  with  Mr.  Webster,  then  Secretary  of  State, 
gave  a  weight  to  his  words,  and  the  implication  in  Mr. 
Clay's  question  evidently  was,  that  he  had  derived  his 
knowledge,  directly  or  indirectly,  from  the  President 
himself.  In  a  subsequent  part  of  the  discussion, 
Mr.  Archer,  in  opposing  the  amendment  of  Mr.  Rives, 
took  occasion  to  express  his  regret  that  the  Senator 
from  Kentucky  had  endeavored  to  draw  from  Mr. 
Choate  the  opinions  of  the  Executive.  Mr.  Clay  rose 
to  explain,  and  this  led  to  a  sharp  interlocutory  debate 
between  himself  and  Mr.  Choate,  which  ended  by  Mr. 
Clay's  interrupting  Mr.  Choate  in  the  midst  of  an  ex 
planation,  and  saying,  4k  That,  Sir,  is  not  the  thing. 
Did  you  not  say  that  you  could  not,  without  breach  of 
privilege  and  violation  of  parliamentary  rule,  disclose 
your  authority  ?  "  "  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Choate,  "  I  in 
sist  on  my  right  to  explain  what  I  did  say  in  my  own 
words."  Mr.  Clay  persisted  in  requesting  a  direct  an 
swer,  and  Mr.  Choate  replied  again,  "  that  he  would 
have  to  take  the  answer  as  he  chose  to  give  it  to  him." 
The  parties  were  here  called  to  order,  and  the  Presi 
dent  requested  both  gentlemen  to  take  their  seats. 
That  Mr.  Clay  in  this,  bringing  all  the  weight  of  his 
experience,  age,  character,  and  long  public  life  to  bear 
upon  a  member  of  his  own  party,  new  to  the  Senate, 
and  not  yet  practically  familiar  with  its  usages, 
should  have  seemed  overbearing  and  arrogant,  was 
unavoidable,  and  it  might  have  justified  a  sharper  re 
tort  than  was  given.  I  have  been  informed  by  those 
who  were  present  that  the  impression  in  the  senate 
chamber  was  much  less  than  it  was  represented  by  the 
newspapers,  especially  by  those  opposed  to  Mr.  Clay 
and  the  Whig  party.  But  whatever  may  have  been 


1841-1843.]  DEBATE   ON  EVERETT.  79 

the  feeling  of  the  moment,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Senate 
on  the  next  day,  Mr.  Clay  with  great  magnanimity 
and  earnestness  denied  the  intention  which  had  been 
imputed  to  him,  and  disclaimed  entirely  the  design  of 
placing  the  Senator  from  Massachusetts  in  a  question 
able  position.  Those  who  were  present  were  struck 
with  the  nobleness  of  the  apology,  and  Mr.  Choate,  of 
all  men  the  most  gentle  and  placable,  went  round  to 
Mr.  Clay  who  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  chamber, 
and  made  open  demonstration  of  reconciliation. 

Another  matter  which  interested  Mr.  Choate  very 
much  during  this  session  was  the  confirmation  of  Mr. 
Everett  as  Minister  to  England.  The  nomination, 
which  was  regarded  by  all  right-minded  people  as  one 
of  the  most  appropriate  that  could  be  made,  was  fiercely 
assailed  on  account  of  an  opinion  which  Mr.  Everett 
had  once  given  in  favor  of  the  right  and  duty  of  Con 
gress  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 
He  was  charged  with  being  an  "  abolitionist,"  a  word 
of  indefinite  but  fearful  import.  Mr.  Choate  felt  that 
the  rejection  of  a  minister  on  grounds  so  intangible,  so 
untenable,  and  so  inadequate,  would  be  for  the  disgrace 
of  the  country,  and  he  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost 
to  prevent  such  a  result.  Those  who  heard  his  princi 
pal  speech  in  favor  of  the  nomination  considered  it  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  eloquent  ever  delivered  within 
the  walls  of  the  senate  chamber.1 

A  member  of  the  Senate  who  was  present  during  the 
debate,  in  a  letter  written  to  Mr.  Choate  many  years 
afterwards,  thus  recalls  the  scene  :  "  My  dear  Sir,  Mr. 
Buchanan's  nomination  brings  up  some  reminiscences 

1  There  are  no  remains  of  this  speech,  which  was  delivered  in 
executive  session,  with  closed  doors. 


80  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.         [CHAP.  III. 

of  you  and  of  him,  which  are  by  no  means  pleasant 
to  me,  now  that  there  is  a  possibility  he  may  be  Presi 
dent.  I  refer,  of  course,  to  the  lead  he  took  on  one 
side  and  you  on  the  other,  in  the  debate  which  pre 
ceded  Mr.  Everett's  confirmation  as  Minister  to  Lon 
don.  I  well  remember  the  cogency  and  splendor  of 
your  argument,  and  the  emotion  it  raised  in  Preston, 
who,  completely  overpowered  by  the  conviction  to  which 
you  brought  him,  exclaimed,  boiling  with  excitement, 

'  I  shall  have  to  vote  "  No,"  but  by HE  SHALL  NOT 

BE  REJECTED.'  l  With  all  my  admiration  for  your  effort, 
the  whole  scene  was  deeply  painful  and  humiliating 
to  me,  more  so  probably  than  to  any  man  in  the  cham 
ber.  I  was  indignant  beyond  the  power  of  language 
at  the  requirement  of  the  South,  that  the  nomination 
should  be  voted  down,  and  the  nominee  branded  as  un 
fit  to  represent  his  country  at  the  British  Court,  siinply 
and  solely  because  he  had  replied  to  the  question  put 
to  him,  that  Congress  might  and  ought  to  abolish  slav 
ery  in  the  District  of  Columbia.  B.'s  hostility  was 
vindictive  and  savage.  He  distinctly  and  emphatically 
denounced  Mr.  E.  as  an  '  abolitionist,'  for  this  and  this 
only,  disclaiming  all  opposition  to  him  as  a  Whig,  or 
as  otherwise  objectionable." 

Mr.  Clay  made  a  powerful  speech  in  favor  of  the 
nomination,  and  said  that  if  it  was  rejected,  there 
would  never  be  another  President  of  the  United  States. 
A  familiar  letter  to  Mr.  Sumner,  then  prominent  among 
the  younger  members  of  the  Whig  party,  alludes  to 
this  among  other  things.  Though  without  date  (for 

1  I  have  understood  that  Colonel  Preston,  when  afterwards  on  a 
visit  to  Boston,  told  a  friend  that  he  never  regretted  any  vote  he  hud 
given  as  he  did  that  against  Mr.  Everett. 


1841-1843.]        LETTER  TO  CHARLES  SUMNER.  81 

this  was  one  of  the  points  of  a  letter  about  which  Mr. 
Choate  was  habitually  careless),  it  must  have  been 
written  in  September,  1841,  Congress  adjourning  on 
the  13th  of  that  month,  and  the  Senate  not  confirming 
the  nomination  till  very  near  the  close  of  the  session. 

To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"  WASHINGTON. 

"  MY  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  have  just  received  the  memoran 
dum,  and  will  turn  it  nocturna  et  diurna  manu, —  to  quote 
obscure  and  unusual  Latin  words.  I  hope  it  will  do  your 
friend's  business,  and  the  Pope's,  and  England's,  and  the  lone 
Imperial  mother's  —  as  you  say. 

"•  Mr.  Webster  is  so  much  excited  (and  confidentially, 
gratified)  with  the  squaboshment  of  the  Whigs  l  that  he  will 
talk  of  nothing  else.  He  thinks  he  can  seal  better  with  Sir 
Robert  Peel  et  id  genus.  Can  he  ?  Your  acquaintance  was 
made  with  so  whiggish  a  set,  that  I  suppose  you  mourn  as  for 
the  flight  of  liberty.  But  mark  you,  how  much  more  peace 
ably,  purely,  intellectually,  did  this  roaring  democracy  of  ours 
change  its  whole  government  and  whole  policy,  last  fall,  than 
England  has  done  it  now. 

"  Yes,  Everett's  is  a  good  appointment.  Ask  me  when  I 
get  home,  if  we  did  not  come  near  losing  him  in  the  Senate 
from  Abolitionism  ;  —  entre  nous,  —  if  we  do,  the  Union  goes 
to  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel.  But  as  Ercles'  vein  is  not 
lightly  nor  often  to  be  indulged  in, —  (nee  Deus  intersit  nisi, 
&c.), —  I  give  love  to  Hillard,  salute  you,  and  am  very  truly 
"  Yours,  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

"  P.  S.  —  We  shall  have  a  veto  after  all,  ut  timeo" 

The  veto,  the  second  veto,  was  sent  in  September  9, 
and  Congress  adjourned  the  13th. 

A  few  letters  to  his  son,  then  about  seven  years  old, 
arid  at  school  in  Essex,  will  show  the  affectionate,  play 
ful,  yet  earnest  character  of  his  intercourse  with  his 
children. 

1  Lord  Melbourne's  ministry. 
6 


MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 


To  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR. 

"WASHINGTON,  30  May,  1841. 

"Mr  DEAR  SON, —  It  is  just  a  week  to-day  since  I  kissed 
you  a  good-by,  and  now  I  am  five  hundred  miles,  or  nearly 
so,  from  you.  1  feel  quite  sad  to  think  of  it ;  and  if  I  did  not 
suppose  you  were  a  good  boy,  and  at  the  head,  and  going  on 
fast  with  the  Latin,  I  should  feel  still  worse.  But  I  hope 
you  love  books  better  and  better  every  day.  You  will  learn 
one  of  these  days  who  it  is  that  says,  *  Come,  my  best  friends, 
my  books.'  I  suppose  you  have  no  roses  yet  at  Essex,  or 
green  peas,  or  mown  grass,  —  though  you  used  to  say  that 
you  saw  every  thing  there  nearly.  Here,  the  whole  city. is  in 
blossom.  They  are  making  hay  ;  and  rose-bushes  bend  under 
their  loads  of  red  and  white  roses.  Can  you  tell  now,  by 
your  geography,  why  the  season  is  so  much  earlier  here  than 
at  Essex,  —  especially  considering  what  a  handsome  place 
Essex  is,  and  what  a  good  school  you  go  to,  and  how  much 

pains  cousin  M takes  with  you  ?     You  must  answer  this 

question  in  your  letter  to  me,  and  think  all  about  it  yourself. 

"  I  hope  you  will  write  to  your  mother  and  the  girls  often. 
They  all  love  you  dearly,  and  want  to  hear  from  you  every 
day.  Besides,  it  does  one  good  to  sit  down  and  write  home. 
It  fills  his  heart  full  of  affection  and  of  pleasant  recollections. 
.  .  .  Write  me  soon. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 


To  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR. 

"My  DEAR  RUFUS,  —  Your  mother  and  dear  sisters  have 
you  so  far  away,  that  I  want  to  put  my  own  arm  around  your 
neck,  and  having  whispered  a  little  in  your  ear,  give  you  a 
kiss.  I  hope,  first,  that  you  are  good  ;  and  next  that  you  are 
well  and  studious,  and  among  the  best  scholars.  If  that  is  so, 
I  am  willing  you  should  play  every  day,  after,  or  out  of, 
school,  till  the  blood  is  ready  to  burst  from  your  cheeks. 
There  is  a  place  or  two,  according  to  my  recollections  of  your 
time  of  life,  in  the  lane,  where  real,  good,  solid  satisfaction,  in 
the  way  of  play,  may  be  had.  But  I  do  earnestly  hope  to 
hear  a  great  account  of  your  books  and*  progress  when  I  get 


1841-1843.J  LETTERS  TO  HIS  CHILDREN.  83 

home.  Love  cousin  M ,  and  all  your  school  and  play 
mates,  and  love  the  studies  which  will  make  you  wise,  useful, 
and  happy,  when  there  shall  be  no  blood  at  all  to  be  seen  in 
your  cheeks  or  lips. 

"  Your  explanation  of  the  greater  warmth  of  weather  here 
than  at  P^ssex  is  all  right.  Give  me  the  sun  of  Essex,  how 
ever,  I  say,  for  all  this.  One  half-hour,  tell  grandmother, 
under  those  cherished  button-woods,  is  worth  a  month  under 
these  insufferable  fervors.  ...  I  hope  I  shall  get  home  in  a 
month.  Be  busy,  affectionate,  obedient,  my  dear,  only  boy. 

"  Your  father,  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

Every  letter  to  liis  children  at  this  period  is  replete 
with  affection,  and  kind  suggestions  and  hopes.  "  Do 
not  play  with  bad  boys.  Love  good  ones.  Love  your 
teacher,  and  see  if  you  cannot  go  to  the  head  of  your 
own  age  of  boys.  ...  I  expect  to  find  all  of  you 
grown.  If  I  find  the  beautiful  feelings  and  bright 
minds  grown  too,  I  shall  leap  for  joy.  .  .  .  Give  my 
love  to  all.  Tell  only  truth  ;  and  be  just,  kind,  and 
courageous.  Good-by,  my  darling  boy." 

And  again  to  two  of  his  children  :  "  I  hope  you  are 
well,  obedient,  affectionate,  and  studious.  You  must 
learn  to  take  care  of  yourselves  alone,  —  your  clothes, 
books,  the  place  you  sleep  in,  and  of  all  your  ways. 
Be  pleasant,  brave,  and  fond  of  books.  I  want  to  hear 
that  you  are  both  good  scholars,  but  chiefly  that  you 
are  true,  honest,  and  kind.  .  .  .  Give  best  love  to  all 
at  Essex.  Go,  especially,  and  give  my  love  to  grand 
mother,  who  was  the  best  of  mothers  to  your  father, 
and  help  her  all  you  can." 

The  next  session  of  Congress  opened  with  consider 
able  apprehension  and  distrust  in  all  minds.  The 
Whigs  had  broken  with  the  President,  and,  though 
powerful,  were  disheartened,  and  unable  to  accomplish 


84  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

their  cherished  purposes.  At  the  same  time,  questions 
of  great  public  importance  were  pressing  upon  the  at 
tention  of  the  government.  During  the  session  Mr. 
Choate  spoke  on  the  Bankrupt  Law,  in  favor  of  Mr. 
Clay's  Resolution  for  Retrenchment  and  Reform,  on 
the  Naval  Appropriation  Bill,  on  the  Tariff,  and  on  the 
Bill  to  provide  further  Remedial  Justice  in  the  Courts 
of  the  United  States.  This  last-named  hill  was  intro 
duced  by  Mr.  Berrien,  then  Chairman  of  the  Judiciary 
Committee,  in  order  to  meet  such  cases  as  that  of 
McLeod's,  by  extending  the  jurisdiction  of  the  United 
States  Courts.  It  was  regarded  as  of  very  great  con 
sequence,  so  "nearly  had  the  nation  been  plunged  into 
war  by  proceedings  for  which  the  general  government 
could  have  no  responsibility.  The  bill  was  supported 
by  the  Whigs  generally,  and  opposed  by  the  Democrats, 
under  the  lead  of  Mr.  Buchanan.  Mr.  Choate  sup 
ported  it  on  the  two  grounds  of  constitutionality  and 
of  expediency,  and  closed  a  generous  and  statesman 
like  yet  severe  argument  in  these  words  :  "  The  hon 
orable  senator  is  against  your  jurisdiction  in  all  forms 
and  in  all  stages.  Sir,  I  cannot  concur  with  him.  I 
would  assert  the  jurisdiction,  on  the  contrary,  on  the 
same  grand,  general  reason  for  which  it  was  given  to 
you.  It  was  given  as  a  means  of  enabling  you  to  pre 
serve  honorable  peace,  or  to  secure  the  next  best  thing, 
a  just  war,  —  a  war  into  which  we  may  carry  the  sym 
pathies,  and  the  praise,  and  the  assistance  of  the  world. 
Accept  and  exert  it  for  these  great  ends.  Do  not  be 
deterred  from  doing  so,  and  from  doing  so  now,  by 
what  the  honorable  senator  so  many  times  repeated  to 
you,  that  negotiations  are  pending  with  England ;  that 
she  has  insulted  and  menaced  you,  and  withheld  rep- 


1841-1843.]  SPEECH  ON  THE  BANK  BILL.  85 

aration,  and  withheld  apology  ;  and  that,  therefore,  the 
passage  of  the  bill,  at  this  moment,  would  be  an  un 
manly  and  unseasonable  courtesy  or  concession  to  her. 
How  much  England  knows  or  cares  about  the  passage 
of  this  bill ;  what  new  reason  it  may  afford  to  the 
4  Foreign  Quarterly  Review  '  for  predicting  the  approach 
of  his  monarchical  millennium  in  America,  we  need 
not,  I  believe  no  one  here  need,  know  or  care.  But 
does  it  mark  unmanly  fear  of  England,  an  unmanly 
haste  to  propitiate  her  good-will,  because  I  would  com 
mit  the  quiet  and  the  glory  of  my  country  to  you  ? 
Where  should  the  peace  of  the  nation  repose  but  be 
neath  the  folds  of  the  nation's  flag  ?  Do  not  fear  either, 
that  you  are  about  to  undervalue  the  learning,  abilities, 
and  integrity  of  the  State  tribunals.  Sir,  my  whole 
life  has  been  a  constant  experience  of  their  learning, 
abilities,  and  integrity  ;  but  I  do  not  conceive  that  I 
distrust  or  disparage  them,  when  I  have  the  honor  to 
agree  with  the  Constitution  itself,  that  yours  are  the 
hands  to  hold  the  mighty  issues  of  peace  and  war. 

"  Mr.  President,  how  strikingly  all  tilings,  and  every 
passing  hour,  illustrate  the  wisdom  of  those  great  men 
who  looked  to  the  Union,  —  the  Union  under  a  general 
government,  —  for  the  preservation  of  peace,  at  home 
and  abroad,  between  us  and  the  world,  among  the  States 
and  in  each  State.  Turn  your  eyes  eastward  and 
northward,  and  see  how  this  vast  but  restrained  and 
parental  central  power  holds  at  rest  a  thousand  spirits, 
a  thousand  elements  of  strife  !  There  is  Maine.  How 
long  would  it  be,  if  she  were  independent,  before  her 
hardy  and  gallant  children  would  pour  themselves  over 
the  disputed  territory  like  the  flakes  of  her  own  snow 
storms  ?  How  long,  if  New  York  were  so,  before 


86  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.        [  CHAP.  III. 

that  tumultuous  frontier  would  blaze  with  ten  thou 
sand  '  bale-fires '  ?  Our  own  beautiful  and  beloved 
Rhode  Island  herself,  with  which  the  Senator  rebukes 
you  for  interfering,  —  is  it  not  happy  even  for  her  that 
her  star,  instead  of  shining  alone  and  apart  in  the  sky, 
blends  its  light  with  so  many  kindred  rays,  whose  in 
fluence  may  save  it  from  shooting  madly  from  its 
sphere  ? 

"  The  aspect  which  our  United  America  turns  upon 
foreign  nations,  the  aspect  which  the  Constitution 
designs  she  shall  turn  on  them,  the  guardian  of  our 
honor,  the  guardian  of  our  peace,  is,  after  all,  her 
grandest  and  her  fairest  aspect.  We  have  a  right  to 
be  proud  when  we  look  on  that.  Happy  and  free  em 
press  mother  of  States  themselves  free,  unagitated  by 
the  passions,  unmoved  by  the  dissensions  of  any  one 
of  them,  she  watches  the  rights  and  fame  of  all,  and 
reposing,  secure  and  serene,  among  the  mountain  sum 
mits  of  her  freedom  she  holds  in  one  hand  the  fair 
olive-branch  of  peace,  and  in  the  other  the  thunderbolt 
and  meteor  flag  of  reluctant  and  rightful  war.  There 
may  she  sit  for  ever ;  the  stars  of  union  upon  her  brow, 
the  rock  of  independence  beneath  her  feet !  Mr. 
President,  it  is  because  this  bill  seems  to  me  well  cal 
culated  to  accomplish  one  of  the  chief  original  ends  of 
the  Constitution  that  it  has  my  hearty  support." 

A  few  extracts  from  private  letters  will  indicate 
some  of  the  other  topics  which  interested  him  during 
the  session.  January  24th  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Sumner : 
"  Lord  Morpeth  is  come  and  pleases  universally.  He 
attends  our  atrocious  spectacles  in  the  House  with  pro 
fessional  relish. "  And  a  little  later  : 


1841-1843.]      LETTERS  TO  CHARLES  SUMNER.  87 

"  I  have  received  and  transmitted  your  papers  for  Lieber ; 
and  read  the  D.  A.1  with  edification  and  assent.  We  are  wrong. 
Lieber  sent  me  a  strong  paper  on  the  same  subject.  He  is 
the  most  fertile,  indomitable,  unsleeping,  combative,  and  pro 
pagandizing  person  of  his  race.  I  have  bought  '  Longfellow,' 
and  am  glad  to  hear  of  his  run.  Politics  are  unpromising, 
but  better  than  last  session.  The  juste  milieu  will  vindicate 
itself.  With  much  love  to  G.  S.  H. 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 


On  the  19th  of  February  he  writes  again  :  — 

"Mr  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  hoped  to  be  able  before  now  to 
tell  you  what  can  be  done  for  that  elegant  and  tuneful  Profes 
sor.  No  certain  thing  do  I  get  yet,  but  I  trust  soon  to  have. 
It  is  the  age  of  patronage  of  genius  you  see.  Regnat  Apollo, 
as  one  may  say.  .  .  .  That  was  a  most  rich  speech  of  Hillard's, 
as  is  all  his  speaking,  whether  to  listening  crowds,  or  to  ap 
preciating  circles  of  you  and  me.2  .  .  .  How  cheerful,  genial, 
and  fragrant,  as  it  wer$,  are  our  politics  !  What  serried  files 
of  armed  men,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  keeping  time  to  the 
music  of  duty  and  glory,  animated  by  a  single  soul,  are  the 
Whigs !  But  this  delicious  winter  bears  us  swiftly  through  it 
all,  and  the  sun  of  to-day  lights  up  the  Potomac  and  burns 
with  the  flush  and  glory  of  June.  Dexter  says  this  city  re 
minds  one  of  Rome.  I  suppose  he  meant  in  its  spaces,  soli 
tudes,  quiet,  vices,  etc.,  —  though  the  surrounding  country  is 
undoubtedly  beautiful.  Love  to  Hillard.  Lieber  writes  in 
Latin.  I  mean  to  answer  him  in  any  tongue  whatever  he 
chooses  to  speak,  and  for  that  purpose  must  break  off  and  go 
at  him.  Truly  yours, 

«  R.  CHOATE." 


1  The  subject  of  searching  vessels  on  the  high  seas  was  then  widely 
discussed,  and  this  refers  to  some  articles  in  the  "  Boston  Daily  Ad 
vertiser,"  on  the  right  and  necessity,  in  certain  cases,  of  verifying  a 
suspected  flag. 

2  A  speech  of  Mr.  Hillard's  at  a  dinner  given  to  Mr.  Dickens. 


88  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  III. 

To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"  WASHINGTON,  June  5,  1842. 

"Mr  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  mourn  that  I  cannot  get  you  yet  a 
copy  of  the  Opinions,  otherwise  called  Old  Fields.1  I  am  in 
collusion  with  Tims,  however ;  if  man  can  do  it,  Tims  is  he. 
I  have  never  got  one  for  myself,  or  I  would  send  that.  I 
send  you  my  speech,  so  that  if  you  do  not  get  Ann  Page,  you 
however  have  the  great  lubberly  boy.  .  .  .  Lord  Ashburton 
is  a  most  interesting  man,  quick,  cheerful,  graceful-minded, 
keen,  and  prudent.  The  three  young  men  [his  suite]  are 
also  clever;  young  rather ;  one  a  whig,  all  lovers  of  Lord 
Morpeth.  Maine  comes  with  such  exacting  purposes,  that 
between  us,  I  doubt.  .  .  .  Yours  truly, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

Later  in  the  summer  he  writes  again  in  the  vein  of 
humor  and  playfulness  which  so  generally  characterized 
his  familiar  intercourse  :  — 

"  WASHINGTON,  10  P.M. 

"  DEAR  SUMNER  AND  HILLARD,  —  I  have  addressed  my 
self  with  tears  of  entreaty  to  the  Secretary,  and  if  no  hidden 
snag,  or  planter,  lies  under  the  muddy  flood,  we  shall  scull  the 
Dr.  into  port.  There,  as  Dr.  Watts  says,  he  may 

'  Sit  and  sing  himself  away/ 

or  exclaim  — 

'  Spes  et  fortuna,  valetc — inveni  mine  portum, 
Lusistis  me  satis  —  ludite  nunc  alios  '  — 

which  is  from  the  Greek,  you  know,  in  DalzelFs  Gra?c.  Ma- 
jora,  vol.  2d,  —  and  closes  some  editions  of  Gil  Bias  ! 

"  The  voting  on  the  Ashburton  Treaty  at  9  at  night  —  seats 
full,  —  lights  lighted, —  hall  as  still  as  death  —  was  not  with 
out  grandness.  But  why  speak  of  this  to  the  poco-curantes 
of  that  denationalized  Boston  and  Massachusetts  ? 

"  Yours  truly,  R.  CIIOATE." 

1  Opinions  of  the  Attorney-General,  with  reference  to  which  Mr. 
Sumner  had  quoted  the  verses  of  Chaucer,  — 

"  Out  of  the  old  fields  cometh  all  this  new  corn,''  &c. 


1841-1843.]    NORTH-EASTERN  BOUNDARY  QUESTION. 


89 


Of  all  the  questions  of  foreign  policy  none  were  more 
pressing,  on  the  accession  of  the  Whigs  to  the  govern 
ment,  than  the  North-Eastern  boundary.  Collisions 
had  already  taken  place  on  the  border.  British  regi 
ments  had  been  sent  into  Canada  ;  volunteers  were 
enrolled  in  Maine.  The  question  seemed  hopelessly 
complicated,  and  both  parties  were  apparently  immov 
able  in  their  opinions.  On  assuming  the  Department 
of  State,  Mr.  Webster  at  once  informed  the  British 
government  of  our  willingness  to  renew  negotiations, 
and  shortly  after  the  accession  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  and 
Lord  Aberdeen  to  power,  Lord  Ashburton  was  sent  as 
a  special  envoy  to  the  United  States,  with  the  hope  of 
settling  the  dangerous  dispute.  On  both  sides  were 
high  purposes,  a  willing  mind,  and  a  determination, 
if  possible,  to  settle  the  difficulty  to  the  advantage  of 
both  parties.  This  purpose  was  finally  accomplished  ; 
the  treaty  was  made  and  signed  by  the  respective 
Plenipotentiaries  on  the  9th  August,  1842.  It  was 
submitted  to  the  Senate  on  the  llth  of  August,  and 
finally  ratified  on  the  20th  of  the  same  month  by  a 
vote  of  39  to  9.  It  determined  the  North-Eastern 
boundary ;  settled  the  mode  of  proceeding  for  the  sup 
pression  of  the  African  Slave-Trade ;  and  agreed  to  the 
extradition  of  criminals  fugitive  from  justice,  in  certain 
well-defined  cases.  At  the  same  time  the  irritating 
questions  connected  with  the  destruction  of  The  Caro 
line,  the  mutiny  and  final  liberation  of  the  slaves  on 
board  The  Creole,  and  the  right  of  impressment,  were 
put  at  rest  by  correspondence  and  mutual  understand 
ing.  Harmony  was  thus  restored  between  two  great 
nations  ;  the  possibility  of  border  forces  along  the 
Canadian  boundary  greatly  diminished  ;  and  the  rights 


90  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  III. 

of  the  flag  upon  the  high-seas  rendered  more  exact  and 
definite.  The  question  of  the  boundary  of  Oregon  was 
left  undetermined,  because  the  arrangement  of  that 
question  seemed  not  to  be  practicable.  That  a  treaty 
of  so  much  consequence,  affecting  questions  that  had  so 
long  interested  and  irritated  the  nations,  should  meet 
the  approbation  of  every  senator,  was  not  to  be  ex 
pected.  It  was  assailed  at  great  length,  and  with  what 
might  be  thought  intemperate  violence,  by  Mr.  Benton, 
when  discussed  in  secret  session,  and  subsequently 
during  the  next  session  of  Congress,  when  the  bill  for 
the  occupation  of  Oregon  was  under  debate.  He  found 
fault  with  what  it  did  and  with  what  it  omitted  to  do, 
with  the  spirit  and  patriotism  of  its  American  negoti 
ator,  Mr.  Webster,  and  with  his  resoluteness  and  intel 
ligence.  The  treaty  was  defended  with  a  spirit  and 
ability  equal  to  the  occasion.  Mr.  Choate  spoke  three 
times.  One  only  of  these  speeches  has  been  preserved, 
that  delivered  on  the  3d  February,  1843,  during  the 
debate  on  the  bill  for  the  occupation  and  settlement  of 
the  Oregon  Territory. 

Congress  adjourned  on  the  3d  of  March,  and  Mr. 
Choate  returned  to  the  labors  of  his  profession  in 
Boston. 

Since  Mr.  Choate's  death  there  have  been  found 
among  his  papers  fragments  of  journals  and  transla 
tions  of  portions  of  the  ancient  classics.  Although 
these  were  prepared  solely  for  his  own  benefit,  and  the 
translations  seem  never  to  have  been  revised,  it  has 
been  thought  that  no  means  accessible  to  us  can  so 
fully  exhibit  some  of  his  mental  traits,  the  methods  by 
which  he  wrought,  and  the  results  which  he  gained. 
Parts  of  the  journals  are  accordingly  inserted  in  their 


1841-1843.]   JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS.        91 

chronological  order,  and  extracts  from  the  translations, 
if  this  volume  is  not  too  crowded,  will  be  found  in  the 
appendix. 

"  LEAVES  OF  AN  IMPERFECT  JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS. 

"May,  1843.  —  I  can  see  very  clearly,  that  an  hour  a  day 
might  with  manifold  and  rich  usefulness  be  employed  upon  a 
journal.  Such  a  journal,  written  with  attention  to  language 
and  style,  would  be  a  very  tolerable  substitute  for  the  most 
stimulating  and  most  improving  of  the  disciplinary  and  edu 
cational  exercises,  careful  composition.  It  should  not  merely 
enumerate  the  books  looked  into,  and  the  professional  and 
other  labors  performed ;  but  it  should  embrace  a  digest,  or  at 
least  an  index  of  subjects  of  what  I  read  ;  some  thoughts  sug 
gested  by  my  reading ;  something  to  evince  that  an  acquisition 
has  been  made,  a  hint  communicated  ;  a  step  taken  in  the 
culture  of  the  immortal,  intellectual,  and  moral  nature  ;  a 
translation  perhaps,  or  other  effort  of  laborious  writing ;  a  faith 
ful  and  severe  judgment  on  the  intellectual  and  the  moral 
quality  of  all  I  shall  have  done ;  the  failure,  the  success,  and 
the  lessons  of  both.  Thus  conducted,  it  would  surely  be 
greatly  useful.  Can  I  keep  such  an  one?  Prorsus  ignoro  — 
prorsus  dubito.  Spero  tamen.  The  difficulty  has  been  here 
tofore  that  I  took  too  little  time  for  it.  I  regarded  it  less  as 
an  agent,  and  a  labor  of  useful  influence,  in  and  by  itself, — 
in  and  by  what  it  exacted,  of  introspection,  memory,  revisal 
of  knowledge  and  of  trains  of  thought ;  less  by  the  incumbent 
work  of  taste,  expression,*  accuracy,  which  it  itself  imposed 
and  constituted,  than  as  a  mere  bald  and  shrewd  enumera 
tion  of  labors,  processes,  and  other  useful  or  influential 
things  somewhere  else,  and  before,  undergone.  Better  write 
on  it  but  once  a  week,  than  so  misconceive  and  impair  its 
uses. 

"I  do  not  know  any  other  method  of  beginning  to  realize 
what  I  somewhat  vaguely,  yet  sanguinely,  hope  from  my 
improved  journal,  than  by  proceeding  to  work  on  it  at  once, 
and  regularly  for  every  hour,  for  every  half-hour  of  reading 
which  I  can  snatch  from  business  and  the  law.  I  have  a  little 
course  for  instance  of  authors  whom  I  read  for  English  words 
and  thoughts,  and  to  keep  up  my  Greek,  Latin,  and  French. 
Let  me  after  finishing  my  day's  little  work  of  each,  record 


92  MEMOIR    OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  III. 

here  what  I  have  read,  with  some  observation  or  some  version. 
I  am  sure  the  time  I  iiow  give  to  one  would  be  better  spent, 
if  equally  divided  between  him  and  this  journal.  I  am  not 
to  forget,  that  I  am,  and  must  be,  if  I  would  live,  a  student  of 
professional  forensic  rhetoric.  I  grow  old.  My  fate  requires, 
appoints,  that  I  do  so  &#CMTXOf4WO£  —  arte  rhetorica.1  A  wide 
and  anxious  survey  of  that  art  and  that  science  teaches  me 
that  careful  constant  writing  is  the  parent  of  ripe  speech.  It 
has  no  other.  But  that  writing  must  be  always  rhetorical 
writing,  that  is,  such  as  might  in  some  parts  of  some  speech 
be  uttered  to  a  listening  audience.  It  is  to  be  composed  as 
in  and  for  the  presence  of  an  audience.  So  it  is  to  be  intel 
ligible,  perspicuous,  pointed,  terse,  with  image,  epithet,  turn, 
advancing  and  impulsive,  full  of  generalization s,  maxims,  illus 
trating  the  sayings  of  the  wise.  I  have  written  enough  to 
satisfy  me  I  cannot  keep  this  journal ;  yet  seriously  do  I  mean 
to  try.  Those  I  love  best  may  read,  smile,  or  weep  when  I 
am  dead,  at  such  a  record  of  lofty  design  and  meagre  achieve 
ment  !  yet  they  will  recognize  a  spirit  that  'endeavored  well.' 

"  13th  May.  —  Read  in  Bloom.  G.  T.  Matth.  3  c.  11-17, 
and  notes,  carefully  verifying  the  references.  I  believe  I 
concur  with  him  in  every  observation.  Qu.  tamen  1.  If  fte  is 
not  the  object  of  acft^  as  avrov  is  of  ucfujan'  and  of  diexoMtv*  ? 
2.  Why  does  not  evOvg  qualify  «np'//  ?  Yet  I  think  the  sense 
is,  that  the  whole  series  of  incidents  —  the  ascent  from  the 
water,  and  the  opening  of  the  heavens,  and  the  vision,  and 
the  voice  —  followed  in  the  order  I  have  enumerated  fast  and 
close  upon  the  consummation  of  the  Baptism. 

"  3.  That  a  miracle  is  described,  the  apparent  opening  of 
the  heavens,  so  as  to  bring  to  the  eye  of  some  one,  as  from 
above,  beyond,  within,  the  image,  form,  symbol,  the  Holy 
Spirit,  descending,  with  the  hovering  morion  of  the  dove  ;  and 
that  an  articulate  proclamation  of  the  Sonship,  and  the  love 
and  the  complacency  indulged  towards  that  son,  by  the  Invis 
ible  speaking  from  on  high,  is  asserted  by  the  evangelist,  no 
one  can  doubt. 

"  Does  JEn.  5,  216-17,  describe  a  descent  or  a  hovering  at 
all,  or  only  contrast  a  progressive  horizontal  motion,  caused 
and  attended  by  the  moving  of  the  wings,  and  a  similar  motion 
with  the  wi'nc/s  at  rest  ?  Semble  the  latter  only. 

"  I  read  the  French  of  the  same  verses,  and  the  German, 
but  the  latter  without  profit. 

1  Trjodaitu  6'  alet  TroAAu  ddaoKopevoc,  — a  fragment  from  Solon, 


1841-1843.]   JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS.        93 

"I  reviewed  —  for  I  will  not  confess  I  had  never  read  — 
Quintilian's  first  chap,  of  book  10,  de  copia  verborum,  Rollin's 
Latin  edition.  I  think  I  do  not  over-estimate  the  transcendent 
value  and  power,  as  an  instrument  of  persuasive  speech,  of 
what  may  be  comprehensively  described  as  the  best  language 
—  that  which  is  the  very  best  suited  to  the  exact  demand 
of  the  discourse  just  where  it  is  employed.  Every  word  in 
the  language,  by  turns,  and  in  the  circle  of  revolving  oratorical 
exigencies  and  tasks,  becomes  precisely  the  right  one  word, 
and  must  be  used,  with  one  exception,  that  of  immodest  ones. 
This  is  Quintilian's  remark,  [§  9]  exaggerated  —  modo  eorum 
qui  art.  prcec.  tradnnt  —  yet  asserting  a  general  truth  of  great 
value,  the  immense  importance  of  a  strong  hold,  and  a  capacity 
of  easy  employment  of  all  the  parts  of  the  language  —  the 
homely,  the  colloquial,  the  trite,  as  well  as  the  lofty,  the  refined, 
the  ornamented,  and  the  artistical  propriety  of  a  resolute  inter 
change  or  transition  from  one  to  another. 

"  How  such  a  language  —  such  an  English  —  is  to  be 
attained,  is  plain.  It  is  by  reading  and  by  hearing,  —  reading 
the  best  books,  hearing  the  must  accomplished  speakers. 
Some  useful  hints  how  to  read  and  how  to  hear,  I  gather  from 
this  excellent  teacher,  and  verify  by  my  own  experience,  and 
accommodate  to  my  own  case. 

"  I  have  been  long  in  the  practice  of  reading  daily  some 
first-class  English  writer,  chiefly  for  the  copia  verborum,  to 
avoid  sinking  into  cheap  and  bald  fluency,  to  give  elevation, 
energy,  sonorousness,  and  refinement,  to  my  vocabulary.  Yet 
with  this  object  I  would  unite  other  and  higher  objects,  —  the 
acquisition  of  things,  —  taste,  criticism,  facts  of  biography, 
images,  sentiments.  Johnson's  Poets  happens  just  now  to 
be  my  book,  and  I  have  just  read  his  life  and  judgment  of 
Waller. 

"  llth  May.  —  The  review  of  this  arduous  and  responsible 
professional  labor  suggests  a  reflection  or  two.  I  am  not  con 
scious  of  having  pressed  any  consideration  farther  than  I 
ought  to  have  done,  although  the  entire  effort  may  have 
seemed  an  intense  and  overwrought  one.  Guilty,  she  cer 
tainly  appears,  upon  the  proof  to  have  been  ;  and  I  can  discern 
no  trace  of  subornation  or  manufacture  of  evidence.  God 
forgive  the  suborner  and  the  perjured,  if  it  be  so !  I  could 
and  should  have  prepared  my  argument  beforehand  and  with 
more  allusion,  illustration,  and  finish.  Topics,  principles  of 
evidence,  standards  of  probability,  quotations,  might  have 


94  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

been  much  more  copiously  accumulated  and  distributed.  There 
should  have  been  less  said,  —  a  better  peroration,  more  dignity, 
and  a  general  better  phraseology. 

"  I  remark  a  disinclination  to  cross-examine,  which  I  must 
at  once  check.  More  discussion  of  the  importance  of  guarding 
the  purity  of  married  life  —  the  sufferings  of  the  husband  — 
a  passHge  or  two  from  Erskine  —  should  have  been  set  off 
against  the  passionate  clamor  for  pity  to  the  respondent. 
Whole  days  of  opportunity  of  preparation  stupidly  lost. 

"  I  have  read  nothing  since  Sunday  until  to-day  ;  and  to-day 
only  a  page  of  Greenleaf  on  Evidence,  and  a  half-dozen  lines 
of  Greek,  Latin,  and  French.  But  I  prepared  the  case  of  the 
Ipswich  Man.  Co.  My  Greek  was  the  fifth  book  of  the 
Odyssey — 163-170  —  the  extorted,  unanticipated,  and  mys 
terious  communication  —  unanticipated  by,  and  mysterious  to, 
him  —  of  Calypso  to  Ulysses  on  the  seashore,  in  which  she 
bids  him  dry  his  tears,  and  cease  to  consume  his  life ;  for  at 
length  she  will  consent  to  assist  his  departure  from  the  endear 
ments  and  the  charms  whose  spell  on  his  passions  was  for  ever 
broken.  There  is  no  peevishness  or  pettishuess  in  her  words 
or  manner;  but  pity,  and  the  bestowment  generously  of  what 
she  knows  and  feels  he  will  receive  as  the  one  most  compre 
hensive  and  precious  object  of  desire. 

"  Saturday,  3d  June.  —  The  week,  which  closes  to-day,  has 
not  been  one  of  great  labor  or  of  much  improvement.     I  dis 
cussed  the  case  of  Allen  and  the  Corporation  of  Essex,  under 
the  pressure  of  ill  health ;  and  I  have  read  and  digested  a 
half-dozen  pages  of  Greenleaf  on  Evidence,  and  as  many  of 
Story  on  the  Dissolution  of  Partnership.     Other  studies  of 
easier  pursuit,  nor  wholly  useless,  —  if  studies  1  may  denomi 
nate  them,  —  I  have  remembered  in  those  spaces  of  time  which 
one  can  always  command,  though  few   employ.     The  preg 
nant  pages  in  which  Tacitus  reports  the  conflicting  judgments 
expressed  by  the  Romans  concerning  Augustus,  upon  the  day 
of  his  funeral ;  and  paints  the  scene  in  the  Senate,  when  that 
body  solicited  Tiberius   to  assume  the  imperial   name    and 
power ;  the  timid  or  politic  urgency  of  the  solicitation  ;  the 
solicitation  of  prayers ;  the  dignified,  distrusted,  unintelligible 
terms  of  the  dissembler's  reply ;  his  proposition  to  consent  to 
undertake  a  part  of  the  imperial  function,  and  the  incautious 
or  the  subtle  inquiry  with  which  Gallus  for  a  moment  spoiled 
the  acting  of  the  player  in  the  iron  mask  — '  what  part  he 
would   take '  —  I   have   read   for   Latin.     They  include  pp. 


1841-1843.]  JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS.        95 

14-17,  in  the  edition  of  Ernesti  and  Oberlin.  Observe, 
Tacitus  in  his  own  person  paints  no  character  of  Augustus. 
More  dramatically  he  supposes  a  multitude  to  witness  the 
funeral,  and  then  to  speak  among  themselves  of  his  character 
and  actions.  By  the  intelligent,  he  says,  a  divided  opinion  of 
his  life  was  expressed.  It  was  applauded  by  some ;  it  was 
arraigned  by  others.  The  former  found  in  filial  piety,  and  in 
those  necessities  of  state  which  silenced  and  displaced  and 
superseded  the  laws,  the  only  motives  that  compelled  him  to 
take  up  the  arms  of  civil  war ;  arms  which  can  neither  be 
acquired  nor  wielded  by  the  exercise  of  the  purer  and  nobler 
arts  of  policy.  While  he  had  his  father's  murderers  to  pun 
ish,  he  conceded  a  large  measure  of  supreme  power  to  Antony 
and  to  Lepidus  ;  but  after  the  latter  had  grown  an  old  man 
by  sloth,  and  the  former  had  become  debauched  and  ruined  by 
self-indulgence,  there  remained.no  remedy  for  his  distracted 
country  but  the  government  of  one  man.  Yet  that  govern 
ment  was  wielded,  not  under  the  name  of  king  or  of  dictator,  but 
under  that  of  prince.  It  had  been  illustrated,  too,  by  policy 
and  fortune.  The  empire  had  been  fenced  and  guarded  on  all 
sides  by  great  rivers  and  the  sea.  Legions,  fleets,  provinces, 
however  widely  separated  from  each  other,  were  connected  by 
a  system  and  order  of  intercommunication  and  correspondence. 
The  rights  of  citizens  had  been  guarded  by  the  law  ;  moder 
ation  and  indulgence  had  been  observed  towards  the  allies. 
Rome  itself  had  been  decorated  with  taste  and  splendor. 
Here  and  there  only,  military  force  had  been  interposed,  to 
the  end  that  everywhere  else  there  might  be  rest. 

"  I  cannot  to-day  pursue  the  version  farther.  In  Greek 
I  have  reached  the  two  hundred  and  fifty-first  line  of  the  fifth 
Odyssey.  Without  preaching  and  talk  by  the  poet,  as  in 
Fenelon's  celebrated  work,  how  the  actions  and  speech  of 
Ulysses  show  forth  his  tried,  sagacious  character.  His  sus 
picion  of  Calypso,  and  his  exaction  of  an  oath  that  she  means 
fair  in  thus  suddenly  permitting  him  to  go ;  his  address  in 
allowing  the  superiority  of  her  charms  to  Penelope's,  and 
putting  forward  rather  the  general  passion  for  getting  home, 
as  his  motive  of  action  ;  his  avowal  that  he  is  prepared  to 
endure  still  more  of  the  anger  of  God,  having  endured  to 
much,  mark  the  wary,  much-suffering,  and  wise  man,  sailor, 
and  soldier.  I  read  in  French  a  dissertation  in  the  Memoirs 
of  the  Academic  of  Inscriptions,  vol.  2,  on  the  Chronology  of 
the  Odyssey  ;  began  one  on  Cicero's  Discovery  of  the  Tomb 


96  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

of  Archimedes.  For  English  I  have  read  Johnson's  Lives 
to  the  beginning  of  Dryden  ;  Alison,  a  little  ;  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  a  little  ;  Quintilian's  Chapters  on  Writing,  and  on 
Extempore  Speech,  I  have  read  and  re-read  ;  but  mean  to 
morrow  to  abridge  and  judge.  I  need  a  Facciolatus  and  a 
Stephens.  Preserve  me  from  such  temptation.  The  first 
I  must  get;  and  so  I  close  this  Saturday. 

"  I  propose  now  to  present  in  a  condensed  view  all  the  good 
sense  in  Quintilian's  Chapters  on  Writing,  and  on  Extempore 
Speech.  [Ch.  I.]  —  He  is  treating  of  the  means  of  acquiring 
copiousness  of  speech,  and  has  disposed  of  the  first  of  these 
means  —  the  reading  of  good  books  —  of  authors  or  of  orators. 
[Ch.  111.,  §  1.]  —  'This  is  a  help  from  without.  But  of  all 
the  parts  of  self-education,  the  most  laborious,  most  useful,  is 
writing.  This,  says  Cicero,  not  extravagantly,  best  produces, 
and  is  emphatically  the  master  of  speech.  [§  2.]  —  Write 
then  with  as  much  pains  as  possible,  and  write  as  much  as 
possible.  In  mental  culture,  as  in  the  culture  of  the  earth, 
the  seed  sown  in  the  deepest  furrow  finds  a  more  fruitful  soil, 
is  more  securely  cherished,  and  springs  up  in  his  time  to  more 
exuberant  and  healthful  harvests.  Without  this  discipline, 
the  power  and  practice  of  extemporaneous  speech  will  yield 
only  an  empty  loquacity  —  only  words  born  on  the  lips. 
[§  3-]  —  I"  tms  discipline,  deep  down  there  are  the  roots,  there 
the  foundations  ;  thence  must  the  harvest  shoot,  thence  the 
structure  ascend  ;  there  is  garnered  up,  as  in  a  more  sacred 
treasury,  wealth  for  the  supply  of  even  unanticipated  ex 
actions.  Thus,  first  of  all,  must  we  accumulate  resources 
sufficient  for  the  contests  to  which  we  are  summoned,  and 
inexhaustible  by  them.  [§  4.]  —  Nature  herself  will  have  no 
great  things  hastily  formed;  in  the  direct  path  to  all  beautiful 
and  conspicuous  achievement  she  heaps  up  difficulty ;  to  the 
largest  animal  she  appoints  the  longest  sleep  in  the  parent 
womb. 

"  k  Two  inquiries  there  are  then :  first  how,  next  what  we 
shall  write.  [§  5.]  I  begin  with  the  first,  and  urge  that  you 
compose  with  care,  even  if  you  compose  ever  so  slowly.  Seek 
for  the  best ;  do  not  eagerly  and  gladly  lay  hold  on  that  which 
first  offers  itself;  apply  judgment  to  the  crowd  of  thoughts 
and  words  with  which  your  faculties  of  invention  supply  you ; 
retain  and  set  in  their  places  those  only  which  thus  you  delib 
erately  approve.  For  of  words  and  of  things  a  choice  is  to 
be  made,  and  to  that  end  the  weight  of  every  one  to  be 
exactly  ascertained. 


1841-1843.]  JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS.        97 

"  Tuesday,  ^th  June.  — '  The  taste  of  selection  accomplished, 
that  of  collocation  follows.  Do  not  leave  every  word  to  occupy 
as  a  matter  of  course  the  exact  spot  where  the  order  of  time 
in  which  it  occurs  to  you  would  place  it ;  do  not  let  the  suc 
cession  of  their  birth  necessarily  determine  their  relative 
position.  Seek  rather  by  variety  of  experiment  and  arrange 
ment  to  attain  the  utmost  power,  and  the  utmost  harmony  of 
style.  [§  6.]  The  more  successfully  to  accomplish  this,  prac 
tise  the  repeated  reading  over  of  what  you  have  last  written 
before  you  write  another  sentence.  By  this  means  a  more 
perfect  coherence  of  what  follows  with  what  precedes ;  a  more 
coherent  and  connected  succession  of  thought  and  of  periods 
will  be  expected  ;  and  by  this  means,  too,  the  glow  of  mental 
conception,  which  the  labor  of  writing  has  cooled,  will  be 
kindled  anew  ;  and  will,  as  it  were,  acquire  fresh  impetus  by 
taking  a  few  steps  backward  ;  as  in  the  contest  of  leaping  we 
frequently  remark  the  competitors  setting  out  to  run  at  an 
increased  distance  from  the  point  where  they  begin  to  leap, 
and  thus  precipitating  themselves  by  the  impulse  of  the  race 
towards  the  bound  at  which  they  aim ;  as  in  darting  the 
javelin  we  draw  back  the  arm ;  and  in  shooting  with  the  bow 
draw  back  its  string.' 

"  I  have  written  only  this  translation  of  Quintilian  since 
Saturday.  Professional  engagements  have  hindered  me.  But 
I  have  carefully  read  a  page  or  two  of  Johnson's  Dryden,  and 
a  scene  or  two  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  every  morning  — 
marking  any  felicity  or  available  peculiarity  of  phrase  —  have 
launched  Ulysses  from  the  isle  of  Calypso,  and  brought  him 
in  sight  of  Phasacia.  Kept  along  in  Tacitus,  and  am  reading 
a  pretty  paper  in  the  "  Memoirs  "  on  the  old  men  of  Homer. 
I  read  Homer  more  easily  and  with  more  appreciation,  though 
with  no  helps  but  Cowper  and  Donnegan's  Lexicon.  Fox  and 
Canning's  Speeches  are  a  more  professional  study,  not  useless, 
not  negligently  pursued.  Alas,  alas !  there  is  no  time  to 
realize  the  dilating  and  burning  idea  of  excellence  and  elo 
quence  inspired  by  the  great  gallery  of  the  immortals  in 
which  I  walk ! 

"  24th  June.  —  I  respire  more  freely  in  this  pure  air  of  a 
day  of  rest.  Let  me  record  a  most  happy  method  of  legal 
study,  by  which  I  believe  and  feel  that  I  am  reviving  my  love 
of  the  law  ;  enlarging  my  knowledge  of  it ;  and  fitting  myself, 
according  to  the  precepts  of  the  masters,  for  its  forensic  dis 
cussions.  I  can  find,  and  have  generally  been  able  to  find, 

7 


98  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  III. 

an  hour  or  two  for  legal  reading  beyond  and  beside  cases 
already  under  investigation.  That  time  and  that  reading 
I  have  lost,  no  matter  how.  I  have  adopted  the  plan  of  taking 
a  volume,  the  last  volume  of  Massachusetts  Reports,  and  of 
making  a  fulP  brief  of  an  argument  on  every  question  in  every 
case,  examining  all  the  authorities,  finding  others,  and  care 
fully  composing  an  argument  as  well  reasoned,  as  well  ex 
pressed,  as  if  I  were  going  to-morrow  to  submit  it  to  a  bench 
of  the  first  of  jurists.1  At  the  completion  of  each  argument, 
I  arrange  the  propositions  investigated  in  my  legal  common 
place  book,  and  index  them.  Already  I  remark  renewed 
interest  in  legal  investigations ;  renewed  power  of  recalling, 
arranging,  and  adding  to  old  acquisitions ;  increased  activity 
and  attention  of  mind ;  more  thought ;  more  effort ;  a  deeper 
image  on  the  memory ;  growing  facility  of  expression.  I 
confess  delight,  too,  in  adapting  thus  the  lessons  of  the  great 
teachers  of  rhetoric  to  the  study  of  the  law  and  of  legal 
eloquence. 

"  I  resume  Quintilian,  p.  399.  [§  7.]  '  Yet  I  deny  not  if 
the  fair  wind  freshly  blows,  that  the  sails  may  all  be  spread  to 
catch  it.  But  have  a  care  lest  this  surrender  of  yourself  to 
the  spontaneous  and  headlong  course  of  your  conceptions  do 
not  lead  you  astray.  All  our  first  thoughts,  in  the  moment 
of  their  birth,  please  us,  or  we  should  never  write.  [§  8.] 
But  we  must  come  to  our  critical  senses  again  ;  and  coolly 
revise  and  reconstruct  the  productions  of  this  suspicious  and 
deceitful  facility.  Thus  we  have  heard  that  Sallust  wrote ; 
and  indeed  his  work  itself  reveals  the  labor.  Varius  tells  us 
that  Virgil,  too,  composed  but  very  few  verses  in  a  day. 

"  [§  9.]  '  The  condition  of  the  speaker  is  a  different  one 
from  that  of  the  author.  It  is  therefore  that  I  prescribe,  for 
the  first,  preparatory  written  exercises  of  the  future  speaker, 
that  he  dwell  so  long  and  so  solicitously  upon  his  task.  Con 
sider  that  the  first  great  attainment  to  be  achieved  is  excel 
lence  of  writing.  Use  will  confer  celerity.  By  slow  degrees 
matter  will  more  easily  present  itself;  words  will  answer  to  it ; 
style  will  follow ;  all  things  as  in  a  well-ordered  household, 
will  know,  will  perform  their  functions.  [§  10.]  It  is  not  by 
writing  rapidly  that  you  come  to  write  well,  but  by  writing 
well  you  come  to  write  rapidly.'  Thus  far  Quiutilian. 

"  I  read,  besides  my  lessons,  the  Temptation  in  Matthew, 

1  This  plan  lie  continued  down  to  the  end  of  his  life. 


1841-1843.]    JOURNAL  OF  READINGS  AND  ACTIONS.       99 

Mark,  and  Luke,  in  the  Greek ;  and  then  that  grand  and 
grave  poem  which  Milton  has  built  upon  those  few  and  awful 
verses,  Paradise  Regained.  I  recognize  and  profoundly 
venerate  the  vast  poetical  luminary  '  in  this  more  pleasing 
light,  shadowy.'  Epic  sublimity  the  subject  excludes  ;  the 
anxious  and  changeful  interests  of  the  drama  are  not  there ; 
it  suggests  an  occasional  recollection  of  the  Book  of  Job,  but 
how  far  short  of  its  pathos,  its  agencies,  its  voices  of  human 
sorrow  and  doubt  and  curiosity ;  and  its  occasional  unap 
proachable  grandeur  ;  yet  it  is  of  the  most  sustained  elegance 
of  expression ;  it  is  strewn  and  burning  with  the  pearl  and 
gold  of  the  richest  and  loftiest  and  best-instructed  of  human 
imaginations;  it  is  a  mine  —  a  magazine,  'horrent,'  blazing 
with  all  weapons  of  the  most  exquisite  rhetoric ;  with  all  the 
celestial  panoply  of  truth,  reason,  wisdom,  duty." 


100  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.          [Cutr.  IV. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

1843-1844. 

Address  before  the  New  England  Society  of  New  York  —  Letter  to 
Professor  Bush  —  Letters  to  Charles  Sumner — Letter  to  his  Dauglr 
ters  —  Speech  on  Oregon  —  Tii>t  Speech  on  the  Tariff — Second 
Speech  in  reply  to  Mr.  M'Duffie —  Journal. 

THE  twenty-eighth  Congress  met  on  the  4th  of  De 
cember,  1843,  and  Mr.  Choate  removed  to  Washington 
for  the  winter.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  month  he 
visited  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  delivering  the  an 
nual  oration  before  the  New  England  Society  of  that 
city.  The  theme  suggested  by  the  occasion  was  one 
which  seemed  always  to  have  a  fresh  interest  for  him. 
He  loved  to  dwell  upon  it.  In  lectures  and  addresses 
he  had  many  times  spoken  on  the  Puritan  character 
and  history,  and  never  without  the  deepest  sympathy 
and  heart-stirring  emotion.  On  this  occasion  he  pre 
sented  the  Pilgrims,  their  Age  and  their  Acts,  as  con 
stituting  a  real  and  true  heroic  period  in  the  history  of 
this  republic.  "  We  have,"  he  said,  "  a  specific  duty 
to  perform.  We  would  speak  of  certain  valiant,  good, 
and  peculiar  men,  our  fathers.  We  would  wipe  the 
dust  from  a  few  old,  plain,  noble  urns.  We  would 
shun  husky  disquisitions,  irrelevant  novelties,  and 
small  display ;  would  recall  rather  and  merely  the 
forms  and  lineaments  of  the  heroic  dead, — forms  and 
features  which  the  grave  has  not  changed, —  over 


1843-1844.]  ADDRESS   IN  NEW   YORK.  101 


which  the  grave  has  no  power  —  rob^d  with  the  vest  • 
ments  and  radiant  with  the  hues  of  an  ,asf)ur£<i  iiapiqri > 
tality."  During  his  discussion  of  the  general  subje'et 
he  spoke  of  the  influences  affecting  the  minds  of  the 
disciples  of  the  Reformation  in  England,  during  the 
residence  of  many  of  them  in  Geneva.  Touching 
lightly  upon  the  impression  of  the  material  grandeur 
and  beauty  of  Switzerland,  he  turned  to  the  moral 
agents,  the  politics,  and  the  ecclesiastical  influences  to 
which  the  exiles  were  exposed.  "  In  the  giant  hand 
of  guardian  mountains,  on  the  banks  of  a  lake  lovelier 
than  a  dream  of  the  Faery  land;  in  a  valley  which 
might  seem  hollowed  out  to  enclose  the  last  home  of 
liberty,  there  smiled  an  independent,  peaceful,  law- 
abiding,  well-governed,  and  prosperous  Commonwealth. 
There  was  a  State  without  king  or  nobles  ;  there  was  a 
church  without  a  bishop ;  there  was  a  people  governed 
by  grave  magistrates  which  it  had  elected,  and  equal 
laws  which  it  had  framed."  These  phrases,  "  a  State 
without  a  king,"  "  a  church  without  a  bishop,"  were 
at  once  caught  up  and  spread  through  the  land.  They 
became  the  burden  of  popular  songs,  and  led  to  a  note 
worthy  discussion  of  the  principles  of  church  govern 
ment  between  two  eminent  divines,  —  an  Episcopalian 
and  a  Presbyterian, —  of  New  York. 

The  entire  address  was  received  with  the  greatest 
delight  and  enthusiasm.  A  member  of  the  New  York 
bar,  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  and  cool  in  his  tem 
perament,  said  "  that  it  was  different  in  kind  from  any 
thing  they  ever  heard  in  New  York  before.  It  came 
upon  them  like  a  series  of  electric  shocks,  and  they 
could  not  keep  their  seats,  but  kept  clapping  and  ap 
plauding  without  being  conscious  of  it." 


102  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.        [CHAP.  IV. 

On  returning  to  Washington  he  wrote  to  his  friend 
Professor  Bush,  who  had  recently  adopted  the  views  of 
Swedenborg.  Although  of  decided  theological  opinions 
himself,  Mr.  Choate  rarely  entered  upon  a  polemical 
discussion  of  religious  topics,  never  indeed  but  with 
those  intimate  friends  with  whom  he  sympathized  most 
closely.  About  himself  he  never  chose  to  talk,  and 
those  who  indiscreetly  tried  to  probe  his  feelings,  would 
generally  find  themselves  turned  aside  with  what  would 
seem  the  most  consummate  art,  were  it  not  done  so 
naturally,  and  with  such  suavity  and  gentleness. 
Hence  in  declining  a  discussion,  and  in  saying  a  kind 
word  of  the  opinions  of  others,  he  sometimes  seemed 
to  those  who  did  not  know  him,  indifferent  as  to  his 
own. 

To  PROFESSOR  GEORGE  BUSH. 

"  WASHINGTON,  January  7,  1844. 

"MY  DEAR  MR.  BUSH, —  I  grieve  that  I  did  not  see  you 
at  New  York,  were  it  but  to  have  united  in  a  momentary  ob 
jurgation  of  all  celebrations  on  wet  days  ;  though  I  should  have 
been  still  more  delighted  to  sit  down  and  charm  out  of  their 
cells  of  sleep  about  a  million  of  memories.  But  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  that  you  could  possibly  be  present,1  and  I  had 
not  an  instant  to  go  out  to  call  on  you.  I  have  known,  say 
half  a  dozen  very  able  men,  who  hold  Swedenborg  just  as  you 
do.  Theophilus  Parsons,  of  Boston,  is  one,  who  is  a  man  of 
genius.  For*ny  part,  I  know  him  not,  and  have  a  timorous 
disinclination  to  being  shocked,  waked,  or  stunned  out  of  the 
'trivial  fond'  prejudices  and  implicit  takings  up  of  a  whole 
life.  But  it  is  your  privilege  to  be  a  seeker  for  truth,  with 
pure  aims  and  a  most  appreciating  eye  and  spirit.  Sit  mea 
anima  cum  tud.  Yours  truly, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

Besides  the  political  business  of  the  session,  Mr. 
Choate  was  much  interested  in  a  law  case  of  great  im 
portance,  that  of  Massachusetts  v.  Rhode  Island.  Mr. 

1  At  the  New  England  Festival. 


1843-1844.]     LETTERS   TO    CHARLES   SUMNER.  103 

Charles  Sumner  acted  as  counsel  witli  him  in  obtain 
ing  and  preparing  the  local  proofs.  The  following 
letter  refers  to  that  case  :  — 

To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"My  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  documents. 
The  cause  is  assigned  for  the  20th,  and  being,  as  Mr.  Justice 
Catron  expressly  declared,  a  case  of  *  Sovereign  States,'  it  has, 
before  this  tribunal  of  strict  constructionists,  a  terrified  and 
implicit  precedence.  Great  swelling  words  of  prescription 
ought  to  be  spoken.  For  the  rest,  I  see  no  great  fertility  or 
heights  in  it.  .Most  hurriedly  yours, 

"  R.  CHOATE. 

"  Saturday,  5  P.M." 


To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"My  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  have  written  by  this  mail  to  Mr. 
Palfrey,  Secretary  of  State,  to  send  me  instantly  certain  papers 
for  Massachusetts  v.  Rhode  Island.  May  I  entreat  you  to  go 
as  soon  as  possible  to  the  State  House,  see  my  letter,  and  aid 
and  urge  its  objects.  You  will  know  the  what  and  where, 
and  a  mail  saved  is  all  one  as  it  were  a  kingdom  for  a  horse. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  views,  —  excellent  and  seasonable. 
I  will  speak  them  to  the  court  so  that  they  shall  never  know 
any  thing  else  again  as  long  as  they  live.  Please  be  most 
prompt.  "  Yours,  R,  CHOATE. 

"  15th  FEB.— The  case  is  for  the  20th  !  !  " 


To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"  Saturday,  Feb.  17,  1844. 

"  MY  D  EAR  SIR,  —  To  my  horror  and  annoyance,  the  court 
has  just  continued  our  cause  to  the  next  term !  The  counsel 
of  Rhode  Island  moved  it  yesterday,  assigning  for  cause  that 
the  court  was  not  full ;  that  the  Chief  Justice  could  not  sit  by 
reason  of  ill  health ;  Mr.  Justice  Story  did  not  sit,1  and  there 

1  Because  belonging  to  Massachusetts. 


104  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

was  a  vacancy  on  the  bench.     The  court  was  therefore  re 
duced  to  six  judges.     We  opposed  the  motion. 

"  To-day  Mr.  Justice  M'Lean  said,  that  on  interchanging 
views  they  found  that  three  of  the  six  who  would  try  it  have 
formally,  on  the  argument  or  the  plea,  come  to  an  opinion  in 
favor  of  Massachusetts,  and  that  therefore  they  thought  it  not 
proper  to  proceed.  If  Rhode  Island  should  fail,  he  suggested, 
she  might  have  cause  of  dissatisfaction. 

"  I  regret  this  result,  on  all  accounts,  and  especially  that  the 
constant  preparatory  labors  of  a  month  are  for  the  present 
wholly  lost.  I  had  actually  withdrawn  from  the  Senate 
Chamber  to  make  up  this  argument,  which  may  now  never 
be  of  any  use  to  anybody.  .  .  . 

"  Yours,  R.  CHOATE." 


To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

"Feb.  1844. 

''Mr  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  All  the  papers  came  safe,  except 
as  yet  the  whole  volume  which  is  to  come  by  Harnden.  I 
shall  print  the  useful,  —  keep  all  safely  —  with  the  entire  file. 
Some  of  them  are  very  good.  The  continuance  of  the  cause 
rendered  it  partially  to  be  regretted  that  so  much  trouble  was 
given.  But  it  is  better  to  close  the  printing  at  once. 

"  Please  thank  Dr.  Palfrey,  and  dry  his  and  Mr.  Felt's 
tears.  I  knew  it  would  be  like  defending  a  city  by  holding 
up  upon  the  walls  against  darts  and  catapults,  little  children, 
images  of  gods,  cats,  dogs,  onions,  and  all  other  Egyptian 
theogonics,  —  but  better  so  than  to  be  taken. 

"  Yours  truly,  R.  CHOATE." 


To  CHARLES  SUMNER,  ESQ. 

[No  date.] 

"  DEAR  SUMNER,  —  I  have  just  had  your  letter  read  to  me 
on  a  half-sick  bed,  and  get  up  redolent  of  magnesia  and  roasted 
apples,  to  embrace  you  for  your  Burkeism  generally,  and  for 
your  extracts  and  references.  It  is  odd  that  I  have,  on  my 
last  year's  brief,  a  passage  or  two  from  him  on  that  very  topic 
which  he  appreciates  so  profoundly,  but  am  most  happy  to 


1843-1844.]        LETTER  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS.  105 

add  yours.  By  the  way,  —  I  always  admired  that  very  letter 
in  Prior,  if  it  is  the  same. 

"  I  hope  you  review  Burke  in  the  N.  A.,1  though  I  have 
not  got  it  and  you  do  not  say  so.  Mind  that  he  is  the  fourth 
Englishman, —  Shakspeare,  Bacon,  Milton,  Burke.  I  hope 
you  take  one  hundred  pages  for  the  article.  Compare,  con 
trast,  with  Cicero,  —  both  knowing  all  things,  —  but  God 
knows  where  to  end  on  Burke.  No  Englishman  or  country 
man  of  ours  has  the  least  appreciation  of  Burke.  The  Whigs 
never  forgave  the  last  eight  or  ten  years  of  that  life  of  glory, 
and  the  Tories  never  forgave  what  preceded ;  and  we  poor, 
unidealized  democrats  do  not  understand  his  marvellous  Eng 
lish,  universal  wisdom,  illuminated,  omniscient  mind,  and 
are  afraid  of  his  principles.  What  coxcombical  rascal  is  it 
that  thinks  Bolingbroke  a  better  writer  ?  Take  page  by 
page  the  allusions,  the  felicities,  the  immortalities  of  truth, 
variety,  reason,  height,  depth,  every  thing,  —  Bolingbroke  is  a 
voluble  prater  to  Burke  ! 

"  Amplify  on  his  letter  in  reply  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford. 
Plow  mournful,  melodious,  Cassandra-like!  Out  of  Burke 
might  be  cut  50  Mackintoshes,  175  Macaulays,  40  Jeffreys, 
and  250  Sir  Robert  Feels,  and  leave  him  greater  than  Pitt 
and  Fox  together. 

"  I  seem  to  suppose  your  article  is  not  written,  —  as  I  hope 
it  is.  God  bless  you.  Yours  truly,  II.  C." 


To  ins  DAUGHTERS. 

"Mr  DEAR  DAUGHTERS  THREE,  —  I  owe  you  so  many 
letters,  that  I  know  not  how  to  begin  to  pay.  I  thought  of 
three  different  letters,  —  one  to  each,  —  but  I  am  so  dreadfully 
busy  that  I  could  not  achieve  such  a  thing  ;  so  1  put  my  arms 
ar6und  you  one  and  all,  and  make  one  kiss  serve.  Sarah's 
conundrum  is  tres  belle  and  tres  fine,  but  thrice  tres  easy.  Is 
it  not  the  letter  '  A '  ? 

"  Picciola  is  so  famous  and  fine  that  I  am  glad  you  like  it 
and  find  it  easier.  I  am  reading  French  law-books  to  prepare 
for  a  case.  Dear  Minnie  writes  a  pretty  short  letter.  I  hope 
the  girls  are  no  longer  x  to  her  as  she  says.  Be  good,  sober 
girls,  and  help  your  mother  in  all  her  cares  and  works. 

"  I  am  awfully  lonesome.  But  I  study  quite  well,  and  am 
preparing  to  argue  a  great  cause. 

1  North  American  Review. 


106  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IV. 

"  It  is  extremely  cold.  Write  each  day  a  full  account  of 
its  studies,  its  events,  its  joys  and  sorrows  ;  arid  any  new  ideas 
you  have  acquired. 

k-  Take  excellent  care  of  my  books.  Do  not  let  any  thing 
be  lost. 

"Coleridge  I  have;  but  I  don't  think  you  would  under 
stand  it.  Try  however.  Kiss  your  dear  mother  for  me. 

"  YOUR  AFFECTIONATE  FATHER." 

Mr.  Choate  was  always  interested  in  naval  affairs, 
and  exerted  himself  during  this  session  to  secure  a 
suitable  indemnity  for  the  officers  and  seamen  (or 
their  widows  and  orphans),  who  lost  their  property  by 
wreck  of  United  States  vessels  of  war. 

Another  question  received  still  more  attention. 

On  the  9th  of  January,  1844,  Mr.  Semple,  of  Illinois, 
introduced  a  resolution  requesting  the  President  to 
give  notice  to  the  British  Government  of  a  desire  on 
the  part  of  the  United  States  to  terminate  the  treaty 
allowing  the  joint  occupation  of  the  territory  of  Oregon. 
Mr.  Choate  opposed  the  resolution,  because  negotiation 
on  the  subject  had  already  been  invited,  and  to  pass 
the  resolution  would  only  impede  the  efforts  of  pleni 
potentiaries,  while  it  imperilled  the  interests  of  the 
United  States,  and  looked  towards  a  declaration  of 
war.  These  views  in  substance  were  maintained  by 
the  Whigs  generally.  They  were  opposed  by  the 
opposite  party,  and  by  no  one  more  ably  than  by  Mr. 
Buchanan,  who  directed  his  argument  mainly  against 
the  speech  of  Mr.  Choate.  To  this-  Mr.  Choate  made  a 
reply  on  the  19th  of  March,  expanding  and  enforcing 
his  previous  argument:  As  this  speech  will  be  found 
in  its  proper  place  in  these  volumes,1  it  is  not  necessary 

1  The  Life  and  Writing  of  Rufus   Choate,  published  by  Little, 
Brown,  &  Co.,  in  2  vols., 


1843-1844.]  TARIFF  BILL.  107 

to  dwell  upon  it  further.  Two  days  after  its  delivery 
the  resolution  was  rejected  by  a  vote  of  twenty-eight 
to  eighteen. 

There  was  probably  no  subject  which  awakened  a 
deeper  interest  during  this  session,  or  called  out  a 
greater  amount  of  talent  in  discussion  than  the  tariff. 
Soon  after  the  meeting  of  Congress  Mr.  M'Duffie  asked 
leave  to  introduce  a  bill  to  revive  the  tariff  of  1833. 
On  this  more  than  twenty  senators,  the  leaders  and 
veterans  of  that  august  body,  spoke  at  different  times, 
most  of  them  with  elaborate  and  formal  argument,  and 
some  of  them  more  than  once.  Mr.  Choate  addressed 
the  Senate  first  on  the  13th  and  15th  of  April,  in  an 
exhaustive  historical  discussion  of  the  early  tariffs, 
especially  showing  that  that  of  1789  was  essentially  a 
tariff  of  protection,  and  deriving  from  this  a  general 
argument  in  favor  of  a  protective  policy ;  enlivening 
the  necessarily  dry  enumeration  of  individual  opinions, 
and  the  details  of  an  old  subject,  by  occasional  pleas 
antry,  and  sometimes  by  high  and  fervid  eloquence. 
Mr.  Benton  had  spoken  of  the  evils  of  an  irregular 
policy.  "Perhaps,"  replied  Mr.  Choate,  "  I  might  not 
entirely  concur  with  the  distinguished  senator  from 
Missouri,  in  his  estimate  of  the  magnitude  of  the  evil. 
An  evil  it  no  doubt  is.  Sometimes,  in  some  circum 
stances,  irregularity  would  be  an  intolerable  one.  In 
the  case  he  puts,  of  a  balloon  in  the  air,  i  now  bursting 
with  distention,  now  collapsing  from  depletion,'  it 
would  be  greatly  inconvenient.  But  all  greatness  is 
irregular.  All  irregularity  is  4not  defect,  is  not  ruin. 
Take  a  different  illustration  from  that  of  the  balloon. 
Take  the  New  England  climate  in  summer ;  you  would 
think  the  world  was  coming  to  an  end.  Certain  recent 


108  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

heresies  on  that  subject  may  have  bad  a  natural  origin 
there.  Cold  to-day,  hot  to-morrow ;  mercury  at  eighty 
degrees  in  the  morning,  with  a  wind  at  south-west, 
and  in  three  hours  more  a  sea-turn,  wind  at  east,  a 
thick  fog  from  the  very  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and  a  fall 
of  forty  degrees  of  Fahrenheit ;  now  so  dry  as  to  kill 
all  the  beans  in  New  Hampshire,  then  floods  carrying 
off  the  bridges  and  dams  of  the  Penobscot  and  Connec 
ticut  ;  snow  in  Portsmouth  in  July,  and  the  next  day 
a  man  and  a  yoke  of  oxen  killed  by  lightning  in  Rhode 
Island,  —  you  would  think  the  world  was  twenty  times 
coming  to  an  end !  But  I  don't  know  how  it  is ;  we 
go  along ;  the  early  and  the  latter  rain  falls  each  in 
his  season ;  seed  time  and  harvest  do  not  fail ;  the 
sixty  days  of  hot  corn  weather  are  pretty  sure  to  be 
measured  out  to  us  ;  the  Indian  summer  with  its  bland 
south-west  and  mitigated  sunshine  brings  all  up ;  and  on 
the  25th  of  November,  or  thereabout,  being  Thursday, 
three  millions  of  grateful  people,  in  meeting-houses, 
or  around  the  family  board,  give  thanks  for  a  year  of 
health,  plenty,  and  happiness.  All  irregularity,  what 
ever  the  cause,  is  not  defect  nor  ruin." 

He  closed  with  a  word  for  Massachusetts,  which  had 
been  assailed  for  her  opinions.  "Permit  me  to  say, 
Sir,  that  you  must  take  the  States  of  America  as  you 
find  them.  All  of  them  have  their  peculiarities ;  all 
have  their  traits ;  all  have  their  histories,  traditions, 
characters.  They  had  them  before  they  came  into  the 
Union  ;  they  will  have  them  after 

'Rome  in  Tiber  melts,  and  tlie  wide  arch  of  the  ranged  empire  falls.' 

South  Carolina  has   hers ;   Massachusetts   has   hers. 
She  will  continue  to  think,  speak,  print,  just  what  she 


1843-1844.]  DEBATE   ON   THE   TARIFF. 


109 


pleases,  on  every  subject  that  may  interest  the  patriot, 
the  moralist,  the  Christian.  But  she  will  be  true  to 
the  Constitution.  She  sat  among  the  most  affectionate 
at  its  cradle ;  she  will  follow  —  the  saddest  of  the  pro 
cession  of  sorrow  —  its  hearse.  She  sometimes  has 
stood  for  twenty  years  together  in  opposition  to  the 
general  government.  She  cannot  promise  the  implicit 
politics  of  some  of  her  neighbors.  I  trust,  however, 
that  she  will  not  be  found  in  opposition  to  the  next 
administration.  I  have  heard  that  once  her  Senate  re 
fused  to  vote  thanks  for  a  victory  for  which  her  people 
had  shed  their  blood.  Sir,  you  must  take  the  States  as 
you  find  them ;  you  must  take  her  as  you  find  her. 
Be  just  to  her,  and  she  will  be  a  blessing  to  you.  She 
will  sell  to  you  at  fair  prices,  and  on  liberal  credits ; 
she  will  buy  of  you  when  England  and  Canada  and  the 
West  Indies  and  Ireland  will  not ;  she  will  buy  your 
staples,  and  mould  them  into  shapes  of  beauty  and  use, 
and  send  them  abroad  to  represent  your  taste  and  your 
genius  in  the  great  fairs  of  civilization.  Something 
thus  she  may  do,  to  set  upon  your  brow  that  crown  of 
industrial  glory  to  which  i  the  laurels  that  a  Csesar 
reaps  are  weeds.'  More,  Sir,  more.  Although  she 
loves  not  war,  nor  any  of  its  works,  —  although  her 
interests,  her  morals,  her  intelligence,  are  all  against 
it,  —  although  she  is  with  South  Carolina,  with  all  the 
South  on  that  ground,  —  yet,  Sir,  at  the  call  of  honor, 
at  the  call  of  liberty,  if  I  have  read  her  annals  true, 
she  will  be  found  standing,  where  once  she  stood,  side 
by  side  with  you  on  the  darkened  and  perilous  ridges 
of  battle.  Be  just  to  her, —  coldly,  severely,  consti 
tutionally  just, —  and  she  will  be  a  blessing  to  you." 
The  debate  closed  on  the  31st  of  May.  Mr.  M'Duffie, 


110  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

as  having  opened  the  discussion,  occupied  two  days  in 
replying  to  his  different  opponents.  His  hopes  of  carry 
ing  the  bill,  if  ever  entertained,  had  long  since  vanished  ; 
and  this  may  account  in  a  measure  for  the  unusual 
tone  of  his  speech.  The  first  portion  of  it  was  mainly 
addressed  to  Mr.  Choate,  and  charged  him  with  draw 
ing  very  largely,  if  not  exclusively,  upon  his  imagina 
tion  for  his  facts,  and  spinning  and  weaving  a  web 
"  about  the  texture  of  a  cobweb,  and  produced  ve-ry 
much  in  the  same  way."  He  asserted  that  he  gave 
isolated,  if  not  garbled,  extracts  from  the  speeches  of 
members  of  the  first  Congress,  "  picking  up  from  Grub 
street  a  worm-eaten  pamphlet,  with  opinions  that  would 
form  an  appropriate  argument  for  the  leader  of  a  band 
of  highway  robbers."  "  I  confess,  Mr.  President,"  he 
went  on  to  say,  "  that  when  I  followed  the  honorable 
senator,  hopping  and  skipping  from  legislative  debates 
to  catch-penny  pamphlets,  gathering  alike  from  the 
flowers  and  the  offal  of  history,  I  found  it  difficult  to 
decide  whether  his  labors  more  resembled  those  of  a 
humming-bird  in  a  flower-garden,  or  a  butterfly  in  a 
farm-yard."  There  was  more  of  the  same  sort.  The 
answer  was  immediate,  and  in  a  strain  which  Mr. 
Choate  in  no  other  case  ever  indulged  in.  "  I  must 
throw  myself,  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "  on  the  indul 
gence  of  the  Senate  for  a  few  minutes ;  and  offer  a  few 
words  of  explanation,  made  necessary  by  the  senator's 
comments  upon  a  portion  of  the  remarks  which  1  had 
the  honor  to  submit  to  you  some  six  weeks  ago.  I  do 
not  propose  to  take  notice  of  any  thing  which  he  has 
said  to  other  senators,  nor  of  what  I  may  call  the 
general  tariff  matter  of  his  speech.  If  others  have 
been  assailed,  as  I  have  been,  by  stale  jests  or  new  jests, 


1843-1844.1 


REPLY  TO   MR.  M'DUFFIE.  Ill 


stale  argument  or  new  argument,  stale  denunciations 
or  fresh,  they  well  know  how  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
I  rejoice,  too,  to  see  that  the  protective  policy  of  the 
country  is  taking  excellent  care  of  itself.  One  more 
such  vote  as  another  branch  of  Congress  has  just 
given,  —  one  such  election  as  will  occupy,  reward,  and 
illustrate  the  approaching  summer  and  autumn,  —  and 
the  universal  labor  of  America  will  be  safe  from  the 
jokers  of  old  jokes,  or  the  jokers  of  new  jokes.  If 
then  it  be  assailed  by  the  arguments  of  men  or  the 
arms  of  rebels,  it  will,  I  hope,  be  quite  able  to  defend 
itself  against  them  also. 

"  Confining  myself,  then,  Mr.  President,  altogether 
to  the  senator's  notice  of  me,  I  must  begin  by  saying 
that  never  in  my  life  have  I  been  so  completely  taken 
by  surprise  as  by  this  day's  exhibition,  just  closed,  of 
good  manners,  sweet  temper,  courteous  tone,  fair  state 
ment  of  his  opponent's  position,  masterly  reply  to  it, 
excellent  stories  —  all  out  of  Joe  Miller  —  extempora 
neous  jokes  of  six  weeks'  preparation,  gleaned  from 
race-ground,  cockpit,  and  barn-yard,  with  which  the 
senator  from  South  Carolina  has  been  favoring  the 
Senate  and  amusing  himself.  I  came  into  the  Senate 
yesterday  with  the  impression  that  the  occasion  was  to 
be  one  of  a  sort  of  funereal  character.  I  supposed  that 
this  bill  of  the  senator,  never  fairly  alive  at  all,  but 
just  by  your  good-nature  admitted  to  have  been  so  for 
a  moment  to  make  a  tenancy  by  courtesy,  and  now 
confessedly  dead,  was  to  be  buried.  I  came  in,  there 
fore,  with  composed  countenance,  appropriate  medita 
tions  on  the  nothingness  of  men  and  things,  and  a 
fixed  determination  not  to  laugh,  if  I  could  help  it. 
The  honorable  senator,  I  supposed,  would  pronounce 


112  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CiiAr.  IV. 

the  eulogy,  and  then  an  end.  Even  he,  I  expected, 
would  come  rather  to  bury  than  to  praise.  I  thought 
it  not  improbable  that  we  should  hear  the  large  and 
increasing  majority  of  the  American  people  proclaimed 
robbers  and  plunderers,  —  because  that  we  hear  from 
the  same  source  so  often,  some  threatening  of  nullifi 
cation  in  old  forms  or  new,  some  going  to  death  on 
sugar,  some  'purging  of  the  passions  by  pity  and 
terror,'  —  and  then  the  ceremony  would  be  closed  and 
all  be  over. 

"  No  tongue,  then,  can  express  the  surprise  with 
which  I  heard  the  honorable  senator  waste  a  full  hour 
or  more  of  the  opening  of  his  speech,  and  some  pre 
cious  health  and  strength,  in  slowly  dealing  out  a  suc 
cession  of  well-premeditated  and  smallish  sarcasms  on 
me.  I  was  surprised,  because  I  think  the  Senate  will 
on  all  sides  bear  witness  to  what,  under  the  very  pecu 
liar  circumstances,  I  may  be  excused  for  calling  to 
mind,  —  my  own  general  habit  of  courtesy  here.  Not 
participating  with  excessive  frequency  in  debate,  nor 
wholly  abstaining  from  it,  I  have  sought  always  to  ob 
serve  the  manner,  as  I  claim  to  possess  the  sentiments, 
of  a  gentleman.  In  such  a  body  as  this,  such  a  course 
is,  indeed,  no  merit  and  no  distinction.  It  is  but  an 
unconscious  and  general  sense  of  the  presence  in  which 
we  speak. 

"  In  the  instance  of  this  discussion  of  the  tariff  I  am 
totally  unaware  of  any  departure  from  what  I  have 
made  my  habit.  The  senator  from  South  Carolina, 
had,  as  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  do,  introduced  a 
proposition  which,  adopted,  would  sweep  the  sweet 
and  cheerful  surface  of  Massachusetts  with  as  accom 
plished,  with  as  consummated  a  desolation,  as  if  fire 


1843-1844.]  REPLY  TO   MR.   M'DUFFIE.  113 

and  famine  passed  over  it ;  and  would  permanently, 
and  widely  as  I  believed,  and  most  disastrously,  affect 
the  great  interests  and  all  parts  of  the  country.  That 
proposition  I  opposed ;  debating  it,  however,  in  a 
general  tone,  and  with  particular  expression  of  high 
respect  for  the  abilities  and  motives  of  the  honorable 
Senator,  and  in  a  manner  from  first  to  last  which  could 
give  no  just  offence  to  any  man.  I  acknowledge  my 
surprise,  therefore,  at  the  course  of  the  Senator's  re 
ply.  But  I  feel  no  stronger  emotion.  I  do  not  even 
remember  all  the  good  things  at  which  his  friends  did 
him  the  kindness  to  smile.  If  he  shall  ever  find 
occasion  to  say  them  over  again,  he  will  have,  I  presume, 
no  difficulty  in  re-gathering  them  from  the  same  jest- 
book,  the  same  historian  of  Kilkenny,  the  same  race- 
ground  and  cockpit  and  barn-yard,  where  he  picked 
them  up.  They  will  serve  his  purpose  a  second  time 
altogether  as  well  as  they  have  done  now."  From  this 
the  speaker  went  on  distinctly  and  cogently  to  reaffirm 
and  prove  his  former  position,  respecting  the  law  of 
1789,  not  a  new  and  original  idea,  as  had  been  charged 
upon  him,  but  held  by  Washington,  Jefferson,  Madison, 
and  Dallas,  "  almost  as  old  indeed  as  some  of  his  op 
ponent's  newest  jests  and  best  stories." 

Another  charge  he  meets  with  peremptory  denial. 
"  What  does  the  Senator  say  next  ?  Well,  Sir,  as  far 
as  I  could  make  out  a  certain  enormous  and  broken- 
winged  metaphor,  in  which  he  slowly  and  painfully 
wrapped  up  his  meaning  rather  than  displayed  it,  be 
ginning  with  his  grandfather's  regimentals,  and  ending 
-I  am  sure  I  could  not  see  how  —  with  a  butterfly 
and  a  barn-yard  —  a  Homeric  metaphor  —  a  longue 
queue  —  as  well  as  I  could  take  the  sense  of  the  figure, 


114  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

he  meant  to  say  that,  in  my  former  remarks,  I  con 
trived  by  selecting  my  own  speakers,  by  picking  and 
choosing  from  what  they  said,  and  by  interpolations 
of  my  own,  to  give  a  garbled  and  unfair  exposition  of 
that  great  debate,  its  course  and  topics  and  interpre 
tative  effect.  In  fewer  words,  his  metaphor  went  to 
accuse  me  of  having  confined  myself  to  a  culling  out 
•of  a  few  paragraphs  here  and  there  from  a  debate  of 
two  or  three  hundred  pages,  and  then  assuming  to  pass 
off  these  as  specimens  of  the  whole ;  whereas  they 
afforded  no  idea  of  it  whatsoever.  It  is  cheating  by 
samples,  I  think,  which  the  Senator  figuratively  charges. 

"  Now,  Sir,  I  deny  this  charge.  I  dare  him  to  the 
proof.  I  challenge  him ;  I  challenge  any  man  to  pro 
duce  a  particle  of  proof  of  it.  ...  I  meet  the  Sena 
tor's  bad  metaphor  by  good  plain  English.  The  accu 
sation  or  insinuation  is  totally  groundless  and  totally 
unjust.  Let  the  Senator  sustain  it,  if  he  can.  There 
is  the  speech  as  it  was  delivered.  He  has  at  last 
found  the  debate  which  it  attempted  to  digest.  If  it 
was  not  fully  and  fairly  done,  let  him  show  it.-" 

Beyond  assertion  he  then  went  on  to  demonstrate 
the  correctness  of  his  position  by  ample  quotations 
from  impregnable  documents,  occasionally  throwing  in 
sentiments  of  a  higher  character,  and  closed  with  a 
quiet  and  beautiful  appeal  to  the  Senators  from  Vir 
ginia  and  Georgia.  Speaking  of  a  proposition  of  Mr. 
M'Duffie,  he  says,  to  indicate  its  absurdity :  "  To  show 
how  willing  he  is  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
fathers,  the  Senator  tells  us  '  he  will  compound  for  the 
duties  of  1789;  nay,  he  will  double  them  even.' 
Really,  Sir,  he  is  magnificent.  Will  he  give  us  back 
the  world  and  the  age  of  1789  ?  Will  he  give  us  back 


1843-1844.]  REPLY   TO   MR.   M'DUFFIE.  115 

our  hours  of  infancy,  the  nurse,  the  ballad,  the  cradle  ? 
Will  he  take  off  our  hands  the  cotton-mill  and  woollen- 
mill,  and  glass-house,  and  all  the  other  various,  refined, 
and  sensitive  labor  and  accumulation  which  we  have 
to  protect ;  and  will  he  give  us  back  the  plain  house 
hold,  and  far-inland  manufactures  and  mechanical 
arts  of  the  olden  time  ?  Will  he  give  us  back  a  Europe 
at  war,  and  a  sea  whitened  by  the  canvas  of  our  thriv 
ing  neutrality  ?  Will  he  give  us  back  the  whole  com 
plex  state  of  the  case  which  'made  those  duties 
sufficient  then,  without  the  reproduction  of  which  they 
would  be  good  for  nothing  now  ? 

"  Nay,  Sir,  not  to  be  difficult,  the  Senator  4  would 
even  be  willing  to  give  us  the  rates  of  the  tariff  of 
1816.'  This  is  rich  also.  He  is  perfectly  willing  to  do 
almost  any  thing  which  is  less  than  enough.  The 
labor  of  the  country  will  not  thank  him  for  his  tariff 
of  1816.  That  labor  remembers  perfectly  well  that, 
under  that  tariff,  manufactures  and  mechanical  arts  fell 
down  in  four  years  from  an  annual  production  of  over 
one  hundred  and  fifty  millions  to  an  annual  product  of 
only  six  and  thirty  millions. 

"  The  honorable  Senator,  applying  himself  diligently 
to  the  study  of  this  debate  of  1789,  says  that  he 
finds  that  it  turned  very  much  on  the  molasses 
duty.  This  suggests  to  him,  first,  a  good  joke  about 
'  switchel,'  and  then  the  graver  historical  assertion 
that  i  Massachusetts  has  always  been  more  sensitive 
about  her  own  pockets,  and  less  about  her,  neigh 
bors',  than  any  State  in  the  Union.'  Now,  Sir,  I 
should  be  half  inclined  to  move  a  question  with  him 
upon  the  good  taste  of  such  a  sally  as  that,  if  I  did  not 
greatly  doubt  whether  he  and  I  have  any  standards  of 


116  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

taste  in  common.  I  should  be  inclined  to  intimate  to 
him  that  such  a  sarcasm  upon  a  State  five  hundred 
miles  distant,  which  he  does  not  represent,  to  which  he 
is  not  responsible,  is  no  very  decisive  proof  of  spirit  or 
sense.  He  will  judge  whether  such  things  have  not  a 
tendency  to  rankle  in  and  alienate  hearts  that  would 
love  you,  if  you  would  permit  them.  Let  us  remember 
that  we  have  a  union  and  the  affections  of  union  to 
preserve,  as  well  as  an  argument  to  conduct,  a  theory 
to  maintain,  or  a  jest,  old  or  new,  to  indulge.  ...  It  is 
a  grief  to  the  honorable  Senator  to  see  protection  senti 
ments  spreading  at  the  South. 

'  Sun  !  how  I  hate  thy  beams  ! ' 

I  rejoice  to  see  this,  on  the  contrary.  I  should  be  glad 
of  it,  though  it  should  raise  up  a  manufacturing  com 
petitor  in  every  State  of  the  Union.  1  rejoice  to  per 
ceive  symptoms  of  a  return  to  the  homogeneous  nature 
and  harmonious  views  of  an  earlier  and  better  day. 
I  rejoice  to  see  that  moral  and  physical  causes,  the 
power  of  steam,  the  sober  second  thought  of  the  peo 
ple,  are  combining  to  counteract  the  effects  of  a  wide 
domain,  and  local  diversities,  on  opinion  and  on  feeling. 
I  am  glad  to  see  the  whole  nation  reassembling,  as  it 
were  —  the  West  giving  up,  the  South  holding  not  back 
—  reassembling  on  the  vast  and  high  table-land  of  the 
Union  !  To  the  Senator  from  Georgia  [Mr.  Berrien], 
and  to  the  Senator  from  Virginia  [Mr.  Rives],  who 
have  so  conspicuously  contributed  to  this  great  result, 
I  could  almost  presume  to  counsel,  persevere  as  you 
have  begun. 

'  Sic  vobis  itur  ad  astra ! ' 

4  That  way,'  in  the  vindication  of  this  policy,  in  the 


1843-1844.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  117 

spread  of  this  light,  in  the  enforcement  of  this  truth  — 
4  that  way,  glory  lies.' ' 

With  a  brief  reply  and  rejoinder,  the  debate  here 
ended,  and  the  question,  on  an  amendment  which 
brought  the  subject  itself  before  the  Senate,  was  decided, 
—  twenty-five  to  eighteen,  —  against  the  resolution. 

Congress  adjourned  on  the  17th  of  June.  The  plans 
formed  for  study  during  the  recess  —  to  him,  of  course, 
no  remission  of  labor  —  will  be  seen  by  his  journal. 
The  first  few  leaves  have  an  earlier  date. 

"December  25,  1843.  Washington.  —  It  ought  to  be  quite 
easy  for  me  here,  when  not  actually  preparing  for  an  im 
mediate  discussion,  to  command  an  hour  for  this  journal,  — 
in  its  plan  altogether  the  best  of  the  many  I  have  attempted. 
An  hour  then  I  prescribe  myself  for  this  labor  and  this 
pleasure  and  this  help.  I  think  it  may  be  usually  an  hour 
of  the  evening ;  but  it  must  be  an  hour  of  activity  and  exer 
tion  of  mind. 

"  I  read,  as  part  of  a  course,  two  pages  in  Johnson's  Pope. 
He  records  fairly,  forcibly,  and  most  pleasingly  in  point  of 
expression,  his  filial  piety ;  and  asserts  and  accounts  for  his 
sorrow  for  Gay's  death.  He  then  treats  the  subject  of  the 
publication  of  his  letters.  The  first  question  is,  Did  Pope 
contrive  a  surreptitious  publication,  in  order  to  be  able  to 
publish  himself  with  less  exposure  to  imputation  of  vanity? 
Johnson-  first  tells  the  story  exactly  as  if  he  believed,  and 
meant  to  put  it  forth  as  the  true  account  of  the  matter,  that 
Curl  acted  without  Pope's  procurement  or  knowledge  ;  and 
that  he  was  surprised  and  angry  at  Curl's  conduct.  He  then 
gives  Curl's  account,  which,  true  or  false,  does  not  implicate 
Pope  ;  and  declares  his  belief  of  its  truth.  Somewhat  un 
expectedly  then,  he  intimates,  and  at  length  formally  declares 
his  own  opinion  to  be,  that  Pope  incited  the  surreptitious 
publication  to  afford  himself  a  pretext  to  give  the  world  his 
genuine  correspondence.  His  proofs  and  arguments  are  at 
least  few  and  briefly  set  forth.  At  a  moment  of  less  occu 
pation  I  will  examine  the  question  by  Roscoe's  helps,  and 
express  the  results. 


118  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IV. 


"  Miltoii's  father  was  the  son  of  a  Papist,  who  disinherited 
him  for  becoming  a  Protestant  at  Oxford.  His  first  instruc 
tor  was  a  private  instructor,  and  was  Young,  a  Puritan,  who 
had  been  also  an  exile  to  Hamburg  for  his  religious  opinions. 
His  father,  too,  was  educated  at  the  University,  was  of  a  pro 
fession  which  a  gentleman  might  follow,  and  a  lover  and 
writer  of  music.  His  mother  was  of  a  good  family,  and  greatly 
esteemed  for  all  the  virtues  ;  and  pre-eminently  for  her  charity. 
The  earliest  influences,  therefore,  on  the  transcendent  ca 
pacities  yet  in  infancy  and  childhood,  might  dispose  to  serious 
ness  ;  to  thoughtfulness ;  to  the  love  and  appreciation  of 
musical  sounds  and  successions  ;  to  sympathy  for,  and  attention 
to  human  suffering ;  to  tendencies  towards  the  classes  of 
religious  Puritanism ;  to  dignity  and  to  self-respect,  as  des 
cended,  on  both  sides,  of  gentle  ancestry,  and  imbibing  its 
first  sentiments  from  refined  and  respectable  minds,  tastes,  and 
character.  Milton  passed  through  no  childhood  and  youth  of 
annoyances,  destitution,  illiberal  toil,  or  unrefined  association. 
It  was  the  childhood  and  youth  of  a  beautiful  and  vast  genius  ; 
irresistibly  attracted,  systematically  set  to  studies  of  language  ; 
the  classical  and  modern  tongues  and  literature ;  already 
marking  its  tendencies  by  recreating  in  the  harmonious  and 
most  copious  speech  and  flow,  and  in  the  flushed  and  warm 
airs  of  Spenser ;  in  the  old  romances ;  in  its  own  first 
4  thoughts  voluntarily  moving  harmonious  numbers.'  Except 
that  his  eyes  and  head  ached  with  late  hours  of  reading,  till 
he  went  to  Cambridge,  in  his  seventeenth  year,  I  suspect  he 
had  been  as  happy  as  he  had  been  busy  and  improving." 


"Boston,  June  23  [1844].  —  It  is  necessary  to  reconstruct 
a  life  at  home ;  life  professional  and  yet  preparatory ;  edu 
cational,  in  reference  to  other  than  professional  life.  In  this 
scheme  the  first  resolution  must  be  to  do  whatever  business  I 
can  find  to  do  —  tot.  vir.  maximo  conatu  —  as  for  tny  daily 
bread.  To  enable  me  to  do  this,  I  must  revive  and  advance 
the  faded  memory  of  the  law ;  and  I  can  devise  no  better 
method  than  that  of  last  summer,  —  the  preparation  of  a 
careful  brief,  on  every  case  in  Metcalf's  last  volume,  of  an 
argument  in  support  of  the  decision.  In  preparing  this  brief, 
law,  logic,  eloquence,  must  be  studied  and  blended  together. 
The  airy  phrase,  the  turn  of  real  reply,  are  to  be  sought  and 


1843-1844.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  119 

written  out.  I  may  embody  in  a  commonplace  the  principles 
acquired  ;  and  I  shall  particularly  strive  to  become  as  familiar 
with  the  last  cases  of  the  English  and  Federal  benches  at 
least,  and  if  possible,  of  those  of  New  York,  Maine  and  New 
Hampshire,  as  of  our  own.  I  have  lost  the  whole  course  of 
those  adjudications  for  some  years.  These  studies,  —  and 
this  practice,  —  for  the  law. 

"  I  advance  to  plans  of  different  studies,  and  to  the  training 
for  a  different  usefulness,  and  a  more  conspicuous  exertion, 
To  avoid  a  hurtful  diffusion  of  myself  over  too  wide  and 
various  a  space  —  laboriose  nihil  agens  —  I  at  once  confine  my 
rhetorical  exercitations  within  strict  and  impassable  limits. 
I  propose  to  translate  Cicero's  Catiline  Orations ;  or  as  many 
as  I  can,  beginning  with  the  first ;  with  notes.  The  object  is, 

—  1st,  The  matter  and  manner 'of  a  great  master  of  speech  ; 
2d,  English  debating  style,  and  words  ;  3d,  The  investigation 
of  the  truth  of  a  remarkable  portion  of  history.    All  the  helps 
are  near  me.     I  shall  turn  the  Orator,  as   nearly  as  I  can, 
into  a  debater  statesman,  of  this  day,  in  Parliament  and  in 
Congress. 

"  With  this,  I  shall  read  Burke's  American  speeches,  writing 
observations  on  them.  The  object  is  his  matter  and  manner ; 
useful  gleanings  ;  rules  of  speech.  But  to  this  is  to  be  added 
the  study  of  politics.  And  for  this  circumstances  are  pro 
pitious.  The  approaching  election  requires  that  the  true 
national  policy  of  the  country  should  be  impressed  on  the 
minds  of  the  people  of  America.  To  elect  a  Whig  adminis 
tration  is  to  prefer,  and  to  secure  the  practical  realization  of  that 
policy.  To  induce  the  people  to  elect  such  an  administration, 
you  must  first  teach  them  to  prefer,  to  desire  that  policy.  To 
do  that  it  must  be  explained,  contrasted,  developed,  decorated. 
To  do  that  it  is  to  be  deeply  studied.  I  mean,  therefore,  to 
compose  discourses  on  the  tariff;  on  Texas;  on  currency;  on 
the  general  points  of  difference,  and  grounds  of  choice  between 
the  parties,  and  the  like,  —  embodying  what  I  understand  to 
be  the  Whig  politics,  and  the  sound  politics  of  the  hour.  In 
all,  through  all  —  an  impulsive  presentation  of  truths  —  such 
an  one  as  will  move  to  the  giving  of  votes  for  particular  men, 
representing  particular  opinions,  is  the  aim.  Every  one 
ought  to  be  and  to  involve,  1st,  an  honest  study  of  the  topic 

—  and  so  an  advance  in  political  knowledge  ;  2ndly,  a  diligent 
effort  to  move  the  public  mind  to  action  by  its  treatment ;  and 
so  an  exercise  in  speech.     '  Priitcip.  foas  sapieiitioe.'     Truth 


120  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV. 

for  the  staple  —  good  taste  the  form  — persuasion  to  act  — 
for  the  end. 

"July  1C.  —  The  gift  of  an  interleaved  Digest  of  Mas 
sachusetts  Cases  suggests  and  renders  practicable  a  plan  of 
reviewing  and  reviving  the  law.  I  shall  add  the  fifth  volume 
of  Metcalf  to  the  Digest  as  it  stands,  and  in  so  doing  advert 
to  the  whole  series  of  decisions.  This  will  not  interfere  with 
my  purpose  of  making  a  frequent  brief  on  legal  theses.  A 
trial  of  myself  in  that  way  yesterday  encouraged  me  to  sup 
pose  I  can  recall  and  advance  my  law.  I  am  sure  I  have  hit 
on  the  right  mode  of  study,  by  digest,  and  brief;  and  I  feel 
in  the  resolution  a  revival  of  zeal,  fondness,  and  ability  to 
work. 

u  17 th  July.  —  Engaged  in  translating  Cicero  against  Catiline. 
I  would  study  that  famous  incident  in  the  Roman  history.  I 
must  assume  Cicero's  orations  to  be  evidence  of  the  highest 
authority  remaining.  He  pronounced  them  —  one  in  the 
presence  of  Catiline  —  all  of  them  before  the  Senate  or  people 
of  Rome,  during  the  transactions  to  which  they  relate  —  he, 
the  Consul,  stating  and  defending  the  most  public  acts  of  ad 
ministration,  in  a  great  emergency.  I  see  nothing  to  detract 
from  their  decisive  weight  as  testimony,  but  the  fact  that  he 
and  Catiline  were  on  opposite  sides  of  the  conspiracy. 
This  may  constitute  a  vast  diminution  of  title  to  credit,  and  I 
must  allow  for  and  measure  it.  One  word  on  Sallust.  For 
many  reasons  his  authority  is  not  so  high.  He  was  not  an 
actor  in  the  scene.  He  could  not  have  personal  knowledge 
of  details  to  so  minute  an  extent.  But  consider  that  he  was 
about  twenty-two  years  of  age  at  the  time  when  the  con 
spiracy  was  formed ;  and  that  he  must  have  written  his 
history  within  thirty  years  after  the  event  itself,  since  he  died 
at  the  age  of  fifty -one,  and  therefore  addressed,  to  some  extent, 
a  contemporary  public.  If  he  is  not  to  be  relied  on  it  must 
be  for  other  causes  than  want  of  means  of  knowing  main  facts. 
Still  the  circumstances  would  not  assure  us  against  very 
considerable  resort  to  imagination,  and  rhetoric,  —  still  less 
against  partisan  feeling  and  aim.  Where  are  the  proofs  or 
grounds  of  suspicion  of  his  uutrustworthiness  as  a  historian  ? 
Take  his  sketch  of  Catiline's  character.  Catiline  was  of  noble 
birth ;  and  possessed  extraordinary  power  of  mind  and  of 
body  ;  but  his  moral  nature  was  wholly  wicked,  and  his  life 
habitually  vicious. 

[Here  appears  to  be  a  loss  of  some  pages.] 


1843-1844.]        CONTINUATION   OF  JOURNAL.  121 


"  There  is  a  pleasure  beyond  expression,  in  revising,  re 
arranging,  and  extending  my  knowledge  of  the  law.  The 
effort  to  do  so  is  imperatively  prescribed  by  the  necessities 
and  proprieties  of  my  circumstances  ;  but  it  is  a  delightful 
effort.  I  record  some  of  the  uses  to  which  I  try  to  make  it 
subservient,  and  some  of  the  methods  on  which  I  conduct  it. 
My  first  business  is  obviously  to  apprehend  the  exact  point  of 
each  new  case  which  I  study,  —  to  apprehend  and  to  enunciate 
it  precisely, — neither  too  largely,  nor  too  narrowly, — ac 
curately,  justly.  This  necessarily  and  perpetually  exercises 
and  trains  the  mind,  and  prevents  inertness,"  dullness  of  edge. 
This  done,  I  arrange  the  new  truth,  or  old  truth,  or  whatever 
it  be,  in  a  system  of  legal  arrangement,  for  which  purpose  I 
abide  by  Blackstone,  to  which  I  turn  daily,  and  which  I  seek 
more  and  more  indelibly  to  impress  on  my  memory.  Then  I 
advance  to  the  question  of  the  law  of  the  new  decision,  —  its 
conformity  with  standards  of  legal  truth, — with  the  statute  it 
interprets  ;  the  cases  on  which  it  reposes  ;  the  principles  by 
which  it  is  defended  by  the  court,  —  the  law,  —  the  question 
of  whether  the  case  is  law  or  not.  This  leads  to  a  history  of 
the  point ;  a  review  of  the  adjudications  ;  a  comparison  of  the 
judgment  and  argument,  with  the  criteria  of  legal  truth. 
More  thought,  —  producing  and  improved  by  more  writing, 
and  more  attention  to  last  cases  of  English  and  our  best 
reports,  are  wanting  still. 

*'  I  seem  to  myself  to  think  it  is  within  my  competence  to 
be  master  of  the  law,  as  an  administrative  science.  But  let 
me  always  ask  at  the  end  of  an  investigation,  can  this 
law  be  reformed  ?  How  ?  why  ?  why  not  ?  GUI  bono  the 
attempt  ? 

"  A  charm  of  the  study  of  law  is  the  sensation  of  advance, 
of  certainty,  of  '  having  apprehended,'  or  being  in  a  progression 
towards  a  complete  apprehension,  of  a  distinct  department  and 
body  of  knowledge.  Plow  can  this  charm  be  found  in  other 
acquisitions  ?  How  can  I  hit  on  some  other  field  or  depart 
ment  of  knowledge  which  I  may  hope  to  master  ;  in  which  I 
can  feel  that  I  am  making  progress ;  the  collateral  and  con 
temporaneous  study  of  which  may  rest,  refresh,  and  liberalize 
me,  —  yet  not  leave  mere  transient  impressions,  phrases,  tinc 
ture  ;  but  a  body  of  digested  truths  and  an  improved  under 
standing,  and  a  superiority  to  others  in  useful  attainment, 
giving  snatches  of  time,  minutes  and  parts  of  hours,  to  Cicero, 
Homer,  Burke,  and  Milton,  to  language  and  literature  ?  I 


122  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IV- 

think  I  see  in  the  politics  of  my  own  country,  in  the  practical 
politics  of  my  country,  a  department  of  thought  and  study, 
and  a  field  of  advancement,  which  may  divide  my  time,  and 
enhance  my  pleasure  and  my  improvement,  with  an  efficacy 
of  useful  results  equal  to  the  law. 

"  My  experience  in  affairs  will  give  interest  to  the  study  of 
tlie  thing.  It  will  assist  the  study,  as  well  as  give  it  interest. 
The  newspaper  of  every  morning,  the  conversation  of  every 
day,  the  speech  of  the  caucus,  the  unavoidable  intercourse 
with  men,  may  help  it.  One  hour  of  exclusive  study  a  day, 
with  these  helps,  might  carry  one  very  far  ;  so  far  at  least,  as 
to  confer  some  of  the  sensations,  and  some  of  the  enjoyments, 
attending  considerable  and  connected  acquisitions.  Let  me 
think  of  methods  and  aims. 

"  1.  The  first  great  title  in  this  science  is  the  Constitution  ; 
its  meaning,  its  objects,  the  powers  it  gives,  the  powers  it 
refuses,  and  the  grand  reasons  why. 

"  2.  The  second  is  the  policy  on  which  that  Constitution 
ought  to  be  administered,  the  powers  it  ought  to  put  forth,  the 
interests,  domestic  and  foreign,  to  which  it  ought  to  attend. 
This  is  practical  statesmanship,  the  statesmanship  of  the  day. 
Now,  let  us  see  how  systematic  and  scientific  Acquisitions  are 
to  be  achieved  on  these  grand  subjects. 

"  1.  It  is  to  be  done  by  composing- a  series  of  discourses,  in 
the  manner  of  lectures,  or  speeches,  or  arguments,  or  essays, 
as  the  mood  varied,  on  the  particulars  into  which  these  titles 
expand  themselves.  Verplanck's  letter  to  Col.  D.,  speeclies 
on  the  Tariff,  might  furnish  models.  I  cannot  anticipate  the 
several  subjects  of  the  discourses  composing  such  a  body  of 
study  and  thought,  —  but  I  can  anticipate  some  of  them. 
The  history  of  the  making  of  the  Constitution,  by  which  I 
now  mean  narrowly  the  history  of  the  call,  and  acts  of  the 
convention  which  made,  and  those  which  adopted  it.  The 
history  of  the  causes  which  led  to  the  formation  of  such  a 
Constitution,  —  by  which  I  mean  the  motives  which  led  the 
country  to  desire  it,  the  evils  expected  to  be  removed,  the 
good  expected  to  be  achieved ;  as  these  are  recorded  in  con 
temporary  memorials,  in  essays,  speeches,  accounts  of  meet 
ings,  debates,  and  all  the  original  discussion  down  to,  and 
through  the  adoption  of  the  government.  This  needs  a  his 
torian.  It  would  reward  one.  It  prepares  for  —  almost  it 
•  supersedes  direct  interpretation.  It  teaches  how  to  adminis 
ter  it  in  the  spirit  of  its  fnuners  and  age.  It  teaches  how  to 
value  it  in  the  spirit  of  its  frainers  and  its  age. 


1843-1844.]        CONTINUATION  OF  JOURNAL.  128 

"Thus  prepared,  you  come  to  the  instrument  itself;  to  its 
meaning,  to  its  powers  and  their  grounds,  to  its  structure  and 
the  philosophy  and  grounds  of  that  structure.  But  without 
pursuing  this  very  general  analysis  of  a  plan,  which  will 
change  and  unfold  itself  at  every  stage  of  accomplishment,  let 
me  return  and  be  a  little  more  definite  and  more  practical. 
I  am  to  write  then,  first,  the  history  of  the  formation  and 
adoption  of  the  Constitution.  For  this  I  have,  or  can  com 
mand,  the  necessary  helps.  My  course  will  be  first  to  glance 
at  the  received  general  histories,  Marshall,  Pitkin,  and  others, 
and  then  seek,  in  original  papers  and  elsewhere,  for  more 
minute,  more  vivid,  and  less  familiar  details.  Truth,  truth,  is 
the  sole  end  and  aim.  I  shall  read  first,  with  pen  in  hand, 
for  collecting  the  matter,  and  not  begin  to  compose  till  the 
general  and  main  facts  are  entirely  familiar.  Let  me  auspi 
cate  the  enterprise  by  recalling  the  immortal  speculations  of 
Cicero  on  his  renowned  state. 

"  My  helps  I  have  supposed  tolerably  complete.  In  my 
own  library  are  Marshall,  Pitkin,  Bradford,  the  Madison 
Papers,  Story,  the  Debates  in  Conventions,  the  Federalist, 
Sparks's  Washington,  and  some  less  valuable. 

"  It  will  give  vigor,  point,  and  interest  to  what  I  shall  write, 
to  throw  it  in  the  form  of  a  contention,  an  argument,  a  reply 
to  an  unsound,  or  at  least  hostile,  reasoner,  debater,  or  histo 
rian.  But  everywhere,  under  whatever  form, —  style,  manner, 
are  to  be  assiduously  cultivated  and  carefully  adapted  to  the 
subject.  Reflection,  therefore,  rhetorical  decoration,  histori 
cal  allusion,  a  strong,  clear,  and  adorned  expression,  a  style 
fit  for  any  intelligent  audience,  are  in  votis.  When  shall  I 
prosecute  these  studies  ?  The  hour  after  dinner  seems  best, 
—  this  leaves  the  whole  morning  till  two  o'clock  for  the  law 
and  for  business,  from  half-past  eight,  or  eight  if  possible,  — 
and  an  hour,  or  half-hour  before  tea. 

"  August  24.  Odyssey,  Book  VIII.  166  to  175.  — '  One 
man  has  a  figure  and  personal  exterior,  mean,  contemptible  ; 
but  God  crowns  and  wreathes  about  his  form  with  eloquence. 
Men  look  on  him  delighted ;  he  speaks  unfaltering,  but  with 
a  honeyed  modesty;  he  is  foremost  of  the  assembly;  as  he 
walks  through  the  city  they  look  on  him  as  on  a  god. 

"  '  Another  in  form  is  like  the  immortals,  but  he  is  unadorned 
by  the  charm  of  graceful  speech.' 

"  Mark  the  recognition  of  the  power  of  eloquence.     It  is 


124 


MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS  CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  IV. 


an  endowment  which  decorates,  which  crowns  an  unattractive 
person  like  a  garland.  It  is  unfaltering,  self-relying, 'yet  it 
charms  by  the  sweetest  modesty.  Its  possessor  reigns  in  the 
assembly.  He  is  gazed  at  in  the  streets.  Such  praise,  such 
appreciation,  such  experience,  so  early,  predicts  and  assures 
us  a  Demosthenes  in  the  fulness  of  time. 

"  I  have  gone  through  a  week  of  unusual  labor;  not  wholly 
unsatisfactorily  to  myself.  I  deliberately  record  my  determin 
ation  to  make  no  more  political  speeches,  and  to  take  no  more 
active  part  in  the  election  or  in  practical  politics.  One  ex 
ception  I  leave  myself  to  make.  But  I  do  not  expect  or 
mean  to  make  it.  I  have  earned  the  discharge  —  honesta 
missio  petitur  et  concessa  erit.  To  my  profession,  tot  is  viri- 
biis,  I  am  now  dedicated.  To  my  profession  of  the  law  and 
of  advocacy,  with  as  large  and  fair  an  accompaniment  of 
manly  and  graceful  studies  as  I  can  command. 

"  In  reference  to  my  studies  of  eloquence,  I  would  do  some 
thing  to  collect  and  arrange  general  observations  —  maxims, 
proverbs  —  sentential,  yrw^iai  —  for  use.  They  fix  attention. 
They  are  argument,  authority,  illustration,  the  signs  of  full 
minds.  Burke,  Johnson,  Burton's  Anatomy  —  any  great 
author  —  any  author  supplies.  The  difficulty  is  of  arrange 
ment,  so  that  in  the  composition  of  an  argument  they  would 
be  at  hand.  I  see  no  way  but  to  digest  them  in  my  Index 
Rerum  —  selecting  the  letter  as  best  I  may  —  but  it  must  be 
my  business  also  to  connect  them  in  my  memory  with  the 
truths  they  belong  to,  and  with  the  occasions  of  possible  ex 
hibition  and  use  —  and  to  review  the  collection  from  time  to 
time,  and  especially  on  the  preparation  of  a  discourse. 

"  20th  September.  —  A  little  attention  to  things,  and  per 
sons,  and  reputations  about  me  teaches  that  uncommon  pro 
fessional  exertions  are  necessary  to  recover  business  to  live, 
and  a  trial  or  two  teaches  me  that  I  can  very  zealously,  and 
very  thoroughly,  and  con  amore,  study  and  discuss  any  case. 
Plow  well  I  can  do  so,  compared  with  others,  I  shall  not  ex 
press  an  opinion  on  paper — but  if  I  live,  all  blockheads 
which  are  shaken  at  certain  mental  peculiarities,  shall  know 
and  feel  a  reasoner,  a  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  business.  lu  all 
this  energy  and  passion  I  mean  to  say  no  more  than  that  the 
utmost  possible  painstaking  with  every  case  is  perfectly  indis 
pensable,  and  fortunately  not  at  all  irksome.  The  case  in 
hand  demands,  invites  to  a  most  exact,  prepared,  and  deep 
legal  and  rhetorical  discourse. 


1843-1844.]         CONTINUATION   OF  JOURNAL.  125 

"  For  the  rest  I  grow  into  knowledge  of  Homer,  and  Taci 
tus  and  Juvenal  —  and  of  the  Rome  of  the  age  from  Augus 
tus  to  Trajan.  A  busy  professional  week  has  suspended 
Cicero  somewhat,  and  has  as  usual  made  the  snatches  of  my 
unprofessional  readings  a  little  desultory,  —  which  is  more 
and  more  besetting ;  more  and  more  deleterious. 

"  I  wish,  as  I  have  long  wished,  that  I  could  acquire  a 
genuine  and  fervent  love  of  historical  reading,  —  I  mean 
the  reading  of  what  I  may  call  authentic  and  useful  history ; 
and  by  that  I  mean  the  series  of  facts  of  which  the  present 
is  the  traceable  result.  The  classical  historians  I  do  love.  I 
read  Tacitus  daily.  But  this  is  for  their  language ;  for  their 
pictures  ;  for  the  poetical  incident ;  the  rhetorical  expression ; 
the  artistical  perfectness ;  and  beauty.  We  cannot  know  that 
any  thing  more  is  true  than  the  most  general  course  of  larger 
events.  The  moment  you  go  beyond  that,  you  are  among 
the  imaginative  writers.  You  are  dealing  with  truths ;  mo 
ralities  ;  instructions  ;  but  you  do  not  know  that  you  are  or  are 
not  dealing  with  actual  occurrences. 

"  The  history  I  would  read  is  modern.  I  should  go  no 
farther  back  than  Gibbon ;  should  recall  the  general  life, 
thoughts,  action,  of  the  Middle  Age  in  him,  and  Hallam's 
two  great  works ;  and  begin  to  study,  to  write,  to  deduce,  to 
lay  up,  in  the  standard,  particular  histories  of  the  great 
countries. 

"  Under  this  impulse  I  have  decided  to  start  from  the 
revolution  of  1688;  first  with  the  English  writers;  and  then 
with  Voltaire.  The  revolution ;  and  the  reign  of  William 
and  Mary,  and  William  the  Third  are  my  first  study.  For 
this  the  means  are  perhaps  sufficiently  ample.  My  plan  is 
simple.  I  examine  first  the  foreign  politics  of  England  — 
her  relations  to  Europe ;  the  objects  of  her  wars  ;  the  objects 
of  her  treaties ;  and  the  results.  I  have  thus  surveyed  the 
general  course  of  what  we  loosely  call  the  history  of  the  time. 
Then  I  turn  to  the  Constitutional  history.  By  this  I  mean 
the  history  of  the  changes  of  the  Constitution ;  the  politics  of 
the  Crown ;  the  politics  of  parties ;  the  politics  of  prominent 
men  ;  the  politics  of  Parliament ;  the  laws  made  ;  the  progress 
and  expression  of  public  opinion  as  that  opinion  relates  to 
Government,  and  to  civil  and  political  right  and  duty.  I 
mean  by  it  the  history  of  so  many  years  of  English  liberty. 
The  industrial  history ;  the  popular  history ;  the  history  of 
the  condition  of  the  people,  their  occupations ;  their  enjoy- 


12G  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  IV. 

ments ;  their  nature ;  the  history  of  literature,  art,  aud  sci 
ence  ;  and  the  study  of  the  master-pieces  of  liberal  culture 
and  high  art  follow. 

44 1  wish  then  to  compress  into  a  few  condensed  and  com 
prehensive  paragraphs  the  result  of  hours  and  of  days'  study, 
under  each  of  these  heads.  Notes  on  these  summaries  may 
indicate  and  discuss  the  materials  out  of  which  this  is  all 
elaborated. 

"  Let  me  begin,  then,  with  such  a  succinct  display  of  the 
foreign  politics  of  England  in  the  reign  of  William. 

"The  one  grand  feature  of  English  foreign  policy  during 
this  reign,  was  antagonism  to  France  —  to  the  France  of 
Louis  the  Fourteenth.  Its  one  grand  and  constant  solicitude 
and  effort  was  to  repel,  or  to  attack,  France ;  —  its  alliances, 
its  battles,  its  whole  series  of  operations  from  1688,  till  the 
King  sunk  into  the  tomb,  pursued  this  single  object. 

"There  is  a  simplicity  in  the  foreign  politics  of  this  reign 
in  this  respect.  And  when  you  ascend,  or  penetrate  to  the 
origin  and  explanation  of  this  policy ;  when  you  inquire  how 
and  why  this  antagonism  to  France  became  its  law  ;  on  what 
principles  and  with  what  views  so  wide  a  confederacy  became 
associated  with  England  in  its  prosecution ;  when,  in  other 
words,  you  look  more  closely  into  the  entire  international 
politics  of  the  Europe  of  that  day,  you  find  all  as  simple,  and 
all  as  intelligible.  In  the  first  place,  the  foreign  policy  of 
England  became  identified  with  that  of  the  United  Provinces  ; 
and  Holland  was  under  an  unintermitted  necessity  to  fight,  or 
to  observe  France.  Turn  first  to  Holland." 


1844-1845.1  POLITICAL  EXCITEMENT.  127 


CHAPTER  V. 

1844-1845. 

Political  Excitement —  Speaks  for  Mr.  Clay  —  Meeting  of  Congress  — 
Diary  —  Annexation  oTTTSxas'^Admission  of  Iowa  and  Florida 

•  —  Establishment  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution  —  Library  Plan  — 
Letters  to  Hon.  C.  W.  Upham  —  Illness  of  Dr.  Sewall  —  Letter  to 
Mrs.  Brinley. 

IN  the  political  contest  of  1844,  the  annexation  of 
Texas  was  the  leading  issue.  Mr.  Van  Buren  failed 
of  a  nomination  in  the  Democratic  Convention,  mainly 
because  he  was  unfavorable  to  that  measure,  and  Mr. 
Polk  was  substituted  in  his  place.  Mr.  Clay  was  the 
candidate  of  the  Whigs.  Mr.  Choate  entered  ardently 
into  the  campaign,  supporting  Mr.  Clay  with  all  his 
ability.  He  spoke  on  the  4th  of  July,  at  Concord, 
where  speeches  were  also  made  by  Mr.  Berrien,  of 
Georgia,  Mr.  Webster,  Mr.  Winthrop,  Mr.  Lawrence, 
and  others.  He  addressed  a  Whig  Convention  of 
Western  Massachusetts  at  Springfield,  on  the  9th  of 
August.  He  spoke  before  the  Young  Men  of  Boston 
on  the  19th  of  the  same  month,  and  again  before  a 
Mass  Meeting  at  Lynn,  early  in  September.  He  was 
opposed  to  the  admission  of  Texas,  not  on  narrow  or 
sectional  grounds,  but  from  fear  of  the  final  result  to 
the  Union  itself.  In  the  speech  at  Lynn,  prescient  of 
coming  danger,  he  said,  "  If  Texas  is  annexed  to  the 
United  States,  these  revolutionary  soldiers  who  rocked 


128  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

the  cradle  of  the  infancy  of  the  Union,  will  live  to 
follow  its  hearse  to  the  grave."  We  are  better  able 
now  to  judge  of  the  effect  of  that  sudden  and  immense 
increase  of  territory,  and  of  the  purposes  for  which  it 
was  urged. 

A  continuation  of  the  fragmentary  "  Journal "  will 
best  show  the  intellectual  plans  of  the  year,  and  may 
indicate  what  he  accomplished  in  the  midst  of,  and  in 
spite  of  the  incessant  demands  of  politics,  and  of  his 
profession. 

"Boston,  December  9,  1844.  —  About  to  set  off  to  Wash 
ington,  there  to  close  in  two  months,  for  ever,  my  political  life, 
and  to  begin  my  return  to  my  profession,  I  am  moved  with  a 
passion  of  planning  a  little  —  what,  in  all  probability,  will 
not  be  performed  —  or  not  performed  without  pretty  essential 
variations  and  interruptions. 

"  1.  Some  professional  work  must  be  done  every  day. 
Probably  the  preparation  of  Hhode  Island  i\  Massachusetts, 
and  ot'Thurlow  in  Error,  may  furnish  quite  enough  for  these. 
But  recent  experiences  suggest  that  I  ought  to  be  more  fam 
iliar  with  evidence  and  Cowen's  Phillipps  ;  therefore,  daily, 
for  half  an  hour,  I  will  thumb  conscientiously.  When  I  come 
home  again,  in  the  intervals  of  actual  employment,  my  recent 
methods  of  reading,  accompanying  the  reports  with  the  com 
position  of  arguments  upon  the  points  adjudged,  may  be  prop 
erly  resumed. 

"2.  In  my  Greek,  Latin,  and  French  readings  —  Odyssey, 
Thucydides,  Tacitus,  Juvenal,  and  some  French  orator  or 
critic  —  I  need  make  no  change.  So,  too,  Milton,  Johnson, 
Burke  —  semper  in  manu —  ut  mos  esf.  To  my  Greek  I 
ought  to  add  a  page  a  day  of  Crosby's  Grammar,  and  the  prac 
tice  of  parsing  every  word  in  my  few  lines  of  Homer.  On 
Sunday,  the  Greek  Testament,  and  Septuagiut,  and  French. 
This  and  the  oration  for  the  Crown,  which  I  will  completely 
master,  translate,  annotate,  and  commit,  will  be  enough  in  this 
kind.  If  not,  I  will  add  a  translation  of  a  sentence  or  two 
from  Tacitus. 

k'  3.  The  business  of  the  session  ought  to  engross,  and  shall, 
my  chief  attention.  The  Smithsonian  Fund  ought  to  be 


1844-1845.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  129 

applied  to  a  great  library ;  and  a  report  and  a  speech  in  favor 
of  such  an  appropriation  are  the  least  I  owe  so  grand  and 
judicious  a  destination  of  a  noble  gift.  An  edition  of  the 
laws,  on  the  plan  of  the  last  winter,  is  only  next  in  dignity 
and  importance.  For  the  rest  —  the  reduction  of  postage,  the 
matter  of  Texas,  the  tariff — will  be  quite  likely,  with  the 
Supreme  Court,  to  prevent  time  from  hanging  vacantly  on 
my  hands.  Sit  mihi  diligentia,  sint  vires  —  sit  denique  et 
prcecipue  gratia! 

And  now  for  details  of  execution. 

I.  Walk  an  hour  before  breakfast ;  morning  paper ;  John 
son  and  Milton  before  breakfast.    Add,  if  possible,  with  notes, 
an  Essay  of  Bacon  also,  or  a  paper  of  the  Spectator,  or  a  page 
of  some  other  paper  of  Addison. 

II.  After  —  1.  The  regular  preparation  for  the  Senate,  be 
it  more  or  less.     Let  this  displace,  indeed,  all  else,  before  or 
after.     2.    If  that   allows  —  (a.)    Preparation   of   cases   for 
courts,     (b.)  If  that  allows  —  1.  Page  in  Cowen's  Phillipps. 
2.  Then  preparation  for  courts.     3.  Then  Senate,  &c. 

III.  Letters  and  session. 

IV.  Then  —  subject  to  claims  of  debate  and  of  Court  — 
Greek,  Latin,  French,  ut  supra.  Burke,  Taylor. 

V.  The  cases  to  be  prepared  by  —  say  20th  January ;  de 
bate  oftener  than  formerly  ;  less  preparation  is  really  needful, 
yet  seek  one  great  occasion. 

"  THE  LAST  SESSION. 

"15th  December,  1844.  —  Under  this  title  I  mean  to  set 
down  any  thing  which  I  may  collect  from  reading  and  inter 
course  with  men  in  Congress  and  the  Government,  that  strikes 
me  as  having  value  or  interest  enough  to  deserve  the  trouble. 
I  don't  design  it  for  a  diary  ;  or  mere  record,  or  in  any  degree 
a  record,  of  daily  occurrences,  for  that  I  keep  elsewhere,  but 
rather  as  a  record  of  daily  thoughts  and  acquisitions  and  im 
pressions,  during  what  I  foresee  must  be  a  most  instructive 
session,  and  what  I  know  is  to  be  my  last  session. 

"  I  begin  a  great  work.  Thucydides,  in  Bloomfield's  new 
edition,  with  the  intention  of  understanding  a  difficult,  and 
learning  something  from  an  instructive  writer  —  something 
for  the  more  and  more  complicated,  interior,  inter  state, 
American  politics. 

"  With  Thucydides  I  shall  read  Wachsmuth,  with  historical 

9 


130  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

references  and  verifications.  Schumann  on  the  Assemblies  of 
the  Athenians.  W.  especially,  I  am  to  meditate  and  master. 
Dacier's  Horace,  Ode  1,  llth  to  14th  line,  translation  and 
notes,  —  a  pocket  edition  to  be  always  in  pocket. 

"  Washington,  Tuesday  eve,  \lth  Dec.  —  I  was  able  to-day 
almost  to  resume  my  courses,  such  as  they  are,  of  classical 
and  elegant  reading  —  Johnson's  Life  of  Addisou  ;  the  Odys 
sey,  Thucydides,  Tacitus,  Juvenal,  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry  in 
Dacier  and  Hurd.  It  was  quite  mechanical  however,  from 
ill  health  and  fatigue.  I  begin  to-morrow  melioribus  nt  spero, 
auspiciis.  I  read  Phillipps's  Evidence,  beginning  at  title 
'  Incompetency,'  and  commonplaced  a  reference  or  two. 

u  Thursday  eve.  —  Mark  how  Homer  makes  the  wise  and 
great  Ulysses  applaud  the  blind  harper  and  poet  and  singer 
Demodocus,  Od.  8,  470  to  480,  and  again,  487,  &c.  Seq. 

44 '  Demodocus,  above  all  mortals,  1  laud  you.  Either  the 
Muse,  the  daughter  of  God,  or  Apollo,  has  been  your  teacher. 
So  clearly  and  so  truly  do  you  sing  the  dark  and  sad  fortunes 
of  the  Greeks;  what  they  achieved;  what  they  suffered; 
with  what  manifold  trials  and  labors  they  contended,  as  if  you 
had  been  with  them,  an  eye-witness,  a  sharer,  or  had  heard 
from  one  who  had  been.' 


"  Thucydides  is  explaining  why  the  primitive  ages  of  Greece 
afford  the  historian  nothing  great,  neither  in  war,  nor  in  any 
thing  else.  In  my  reading  of  to-day,  close  of  2d  and  3d  of  c. 
2,  he  is  saying :  *  And  for  this  reason,  they  did  not  strengthen 
th»  mselves,  either  by  the  greatness  of  cities  or  by  military 
preparation  of  any  kind.  It  was  ever  the  most  fertile  regions 
which  oftenest  underwent  changes  of  occupants  ;  such  as  what 
is  now  called  Thessaly  and  Boeotia,  and  the  greater  part  of 
Peloponnesus  (excepting  Arcadia),  and  the  better  portions 
of  other  countries  of  Greece.  For  by  means  of  the  richness  of 
their  soils  certain  individuals  would  attain  to  a  superiority  of 
wealth;  and  this  at  once  gave  birth  to  factions  within,  by 
which  they  were  subverted,  and  exposed  them  to  enemies 
from  without.' 

"  Tacitus,  Lib.  II.,  sec.  30,  relates  the  accusation  and  trial 
of  Libo :  4  This  compelled  the  accused  to  ask  a  postponement 
of  the  trial  until  the  next  day  ;  and  returning  to  his  house,  he 
committed  to  P.  Quirinus,  his  kinsman,  the  last  entreaties, 
to  be  borne  to  the  Emperor.'  '  Let  him  ask  mercy  of  the 
Senate.'  Such  was  the  reply  of  Tiberius. 


1844-1845.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  131 

"Saturday  night,  28th  Dec.,  1844. —  My  readings  have 
been  pretty  regular  and  almost  systematic.  Phillipps's  Evi 
dence,  with  notes,  Johnson,  The  Tatler,  The  Whig  Examiner, 
and  Milton,  in  the  morning  —  some  thoughts  on  the  Smith 
sonian  Fund,  and  one  or  two  other  Senatorial  matters  in  the 
forenoon,  and  the  Odyssey,  Thucydides  in  Bloomfield,  Hobbes, 
and  Arnold,  Demosthenes  for  the  Crown,  Tacitus,  Juvenal, 
and  Horace  de  Arte  Poet,  with  Dacier  and  Hurd.  For  the 
rest  I  have  read  Jeffrey's  contributions  to  the  Review,  and 
have  plunged  into  a  pretty  wide  and  most  unsatisfactory 
course  of  inquiry  concerning  the  Pelasgi,  and  the  origin  of 
Greek  culture,  and  the  Greek  mind.  Upon  this  subject  let 
me  set  down  a  few  thoughts. 

"2&th  December,  1844.  —  The  nation  which  attracts   the 
highest  interest  to  its  history  is  undoubtedly  Ancient  Greece. 
Perfectly  to  know  that  history,  to  discern  and  arrange  its 
authentic  incidents,  to  extract  and  exclude  fable,   to  abate 
exaggeration,  to  select  sagaciously  and  probably  between  al 
ternatives  of  conjecture  ;  to  solve  the   great  problem  of  the 
origin,  successive  growth  and  complete  formation  of  that  mind 
and  character,  the  causes  which  produced  it  and  set  it  apart 
from  all  other  character  and  mind  ;  to  deduce  and  apply  the 
lessons  of  that  history  to  America,  —  would  be  a  vast  achieve 
ment  of  scholarship  and  philosophy  and  statesmanship.     To 
me,  cogitante  scepenumero  on  what  one  such  labor  I  may  con 
centrate  moments  and  efforts  else  sure  to  be  dissipated  and 
unproductive,  this  seems  to  be  obviously  my  reserved  task. 
It  is  large  enough,  and  various  enough  to  employ  all  my  leis 
ure,  stimulate  all  my  faculties,  cultivate  all  my  powers  and 
tastes,  and  it  is  seasonable  and  applicable  in  the  actual  condi 
tion  of  these  States.     He  who  should  perform  it  adequately 
would  be  riot  merely  the  best  Greek  scholar  of  this  country  ; 
the  best  read  in  one  brilliant  chapter  of  the  history  of  man  ; 
the  most  accomplished  in  one  vast  department  of  literature, 
art,  philosophy,  fact ;  but  he  would  have  added  to  his  means 
of  counselling  the  people  on  the  things  of  their  peace.     Pie 
would  have  learned  more  of  the  uses  and  dangers  of  liberty, 
and  the  uses  and  dangers  of  union.     Let  me  slowly,  quietly 
begin.     I  seek  political  lessons  for  my  country.     But  I  am  to 
traverse  centuries  before  I  find  these  lessons  in  the  pages  of 
Thucydides.      To   approach  to  the  accomplishment  of  this 
design,  it  must   be  my  only  literary  labor  —  my  only  labor 
not  professional.     It  may  well,  and  it  positively  must,  super- 


132  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

sede  all  others.  The  investigations  it  will  exact ;  the  col 
lections  of  authorities;  the  constant  use  of  the  pen;  the 
translations,  the  speculations,  ought  to  constitute  an  admirable 
exercise  in  reasoning ;  in  taste  ;  in  rhetoric  as  well  as  his 
tory.  They  may  be  embodied  in  a  series  of  careful  essays. 

tkl  dismiss  therefore,  and  replace  in  the  library,  all  my 
books,  except  the  two  or  three  which  I  read  for  English  and 
Latin  —  and  bestow  myself  on  this. 

"  The  Homeric  poems  present  to  us  a  Greece  already 
formed ;  a  race  speaking  one  tongue,  distinct  from  the  tongues 
of  Egypt  or  Phoenicia,  distributed  into  many  distinct  sover 
eignties  ;  some  of  which,  or  all  of  which  are  allied  for  the 
prosecution  of  a  great  foreign  war,  under  a  single  command. 

They  disclose  this  race  already  in  the  occupation  of 

[Here  a  blank  occurs  in  the  MS.] 

and  they  paint  vividly,  comprehensively,  its  whole  public  and 
private  life  ;  its  religion  ;  its  industry  ;  its  arts ;  its  language  ; 
its  mind ;  its  manners.  That  Greece  I  shall,  long  hereafter, 
carefully  study  and  exhibit.  But  not  yet.  There  is  a  stupen 
dous  preliminary  problem.  What  had  preceded  and  pro 
duced  that  Greece  ?  What  causes  had  acted  on  what  races  so 
as  to  evolve  the  Greece  of  the  heroic  age  ?  who  had  been  the 
actors;  what  had  been  the  acts,  —  what  had  been  the  in 
fluences  ;  what  the  succession  of  changes,  and  of  advancement  ? 

"  The  Greek  character  and  mind  in  its  perfection  was  so 
extraordinary,  so  unlike  all  that  had  preceded  or  have  followed 
it,  that  it  is  hot  very  strange  perhaps  that  speculatists  should 
look  with  favor  on  the  theory  of  a  descent  from  a  primitive 
race  or  races,  of  extraordinary  qualities.  They  have  scarcely 
been  able  to  comprehend  how  any  mere  national  education, 
however  varied,  however  plastic,  of  which  we  can  learn  any 
thing,  could  have  formed  such  a  character  and  such  a  mind 
out  of  common  savage  nature  ;  and  they  have  been  half  in 
clined  to  find  in  the  Pelasgi  of  the  Old  World,  or  in  the  Hel 
lenes,  or  in  a  race  from  the  North,  or  in  all  together,  the 
germs  of  the  transcendent  genius,  and  the  brilliant  traits 
which  illustrate  the  age  of  Grecian  glory. 

**  Let  me  begin  then  with  the  Ante  Hellenic  races  and  ages 
of  Greece.  Who  —  whence  —  what  —  and  of  what  names, 
fortunes,  diffusion,  its  first  inhabitants  ? 


1844-158.4]        FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  133 


"THE  LAST  SESSION, — A  DAT. 

11  January,  1845.  —  Finished  Johnson's  Life  of  Sheffield." 
J.  carelessly  assigns  as  evidence  that  S.  refused  conversion  to 
papacy,  an  anecdote  which  he  immediately  disproves.  If  the 
sentence  had  been  finished  with  '  others ; '  and  he  had  then 
said,  JB.  even  records,  &c.,  &c.,  and  then  disproved  B.'s  specific 
statement,  better. 

"  The  progress  of  Milton's  fame,  illustrated  by  the  changes 
of  the  later  editions  of  one  of  his  [Sheffield's]  pieces  from  the 
earlier,  is  curious. 

'  A  faultless  monster,  which  the  world  ne'er  saw/ 

is  good  and  quotable.  Sine  lobe  monstrum  [of  Scaliger]  is 
the  germ  certainly. 

"  I  remark  '  illegality,'  and  'conjunctive  sovereignty.'  How 
does  Hallam  express  it  ?  Is  it  associated  sovereignty  ? 

"  Milton's  'Paradise  Lost,'  1st  book,  344-375.  Mark  the 
matchless  grandeur  and  elevation  of  expression.  '  Cope  of 
Hell,'  '  Great  Sultan,'  not  sovereign  ;  how  much  more  har 
monious,  aiming  at  variety,  uncommon,  with  a  charm  of 
orientalism.  '  Rhene/  '  Danaw,'  '  Beneath  Gibraltar,'  an  epi 
thet  which  makes  you  look  down  south. 

'  Gay  religions,  —  full  of  pomp  and  gold/ 

classical  and  gorgeous. 

"  Paper  in  Ret.  Rev.1  vol.  i.  p.  83,  on  Sir  Thomas  Browne's 
'  Urn  Burial/  —  great  beauty  and  an  exquisite  appreciation 
of  the  peculiarities  of  B.  The  first  page,  devoted  to  show 
what  use  other,  most  writers,  have  made  of  death  and  mortality, 
has  delightful  expression  and  fine  thoughts,  not  enough  sep 
arated  and  arranged  and  made  progressive.  '  Fragility  '  of 
delight  is  not  a  bewitching  attribute  of  delight.  It  is  an 
influence,  however,  a  fact,  or  that  which  leads  to  a  more 
intense  estimate  and  greedier  and  fonder  enjoying  of,  and 
a  making  most  of  it. 

"  What  follows  is  truer,  or  more  truly  sets  forth  what  phil 
osophy  and  poetry  may  and  do  effectively  derive  from  mortality 
to  their  representations  of  affection  ;  sympathy,  the  human 
nature. 

1  "  Retrospective  Review." 


134  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

"  In  addition  to  my  course,  and  a  rule  of  Greek  grammar, 
I  read  a  part  of  1st  Psalm  in  Buchanan's  Latiu  and  Dupont's 
Greek ;  the  latter  verbose  and  tautologous,  the  former,  I 
should  think,  rigorously  classical  and  energetic.  Finished 
with  some  pages  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  on  life  and  death.  Intense, 
exaggerated,  mournful,  too  true.  I  will  daily  read  in  the 
English  version  at  least  six  verses  of  the  New  Testament 
with  an  earnest  effort  to  understand,  imbibe,  and  live  them. 
Satis,  plusquam  satis,  sic  vixisse,  —  sic  non  vixisse,  —  nee 
pulchre,  —  nee  recte, — sine  dignitate,  —  sine  me  ipsurn  salvum 
faciend.!  sine  reg.  —  sine  observ.  —  Dei  prrccept. — sine  intel- 
lig.  —  et  app.  —  ad  me  instit.  —  et  ritus  rel.  Christ  —  vit.  ist. 
tu«  felic.  non  debetur,  nee  promissa,  nee  poss. !  Ideo  ut  supra 
in  vers.  ang.  una  cum  fin.  diei  stud.  Sex  vers.  leg.  et  iiied. 
et  orare ! 

"The  session  ended.     Boston,  March  10,  1845. 

"  To  resume  my  ante-Homeric  Greece,  I  have  but  to  pro 
cure  a  Niebuhr  and  Miiller  in  addition  to  books  already  at 
hand,  to  review  the  collections  accumulated  at  Washington, 
and  begin.  But  all  this  is  to  be  held  in  strictest  subordination 
to  law  and  to  business.  It  is  to  be  relaxation  and  recreation 
strictly,  yet  is  it  to  improve  style,  reason,  taste,  and  habits  of 
research. 

"  30th  M.  '45.  —  A  succession  of  trials  in  different  courts  has 
thrown  me  out  of  many  merely  literary  and  exercitational 
purposes  and  duties.  These  I  resume,  and  every  day  —  not 
a  day  of  trial  in  court  —  I  shall  investigate  some  subject  of 
law,  three  hours  at  least,  digesting  the  results. 

"  Translation  daily  is  manifestly  my  only  means  of  keeping 
up  my  English.  This  I  practise  in  my  post-prandial  readings, 
but  I  fear  it  is  not  quite  exacting,  laborious,  and  stimulant 
enough.  I  have  a  pretty  strong  impression  that  the  only 
sufficient  task  would  be  Demosthenes  severely,  exactly  ren 
dered,  yet  with  utmost  striving  of  words,  style,  melody, 
volume  of  sound,  and  impression.  I  should  begin  with  the 
oral  ion  for  the  Crown.  When  ?  By  putting  my  post-prandial 
classical  readings  before  breakfast,  following  my  English, 
I  could  gain  an  hour,  or  half  of  one,  after  dinner,  and  half  an 
hour  after  breakfast  at  home.  This  will  do,  leaving  my  fore 
noons,  afternoons,  and  one  evening  hour,  for  business  and  law. 
Try. 


1844-1845.]  ANNEXATION  OF   TEXAS.  135 


April.  —  I  have  tried,  and  with  tolerable  success. 
I  have  translated  the  Decree  of  Ctesiphon  ;  the  impeachment 
of  TEschines  ;  and  am  now  about  to  digest  so  much  of  the 
History  of  Greece  as  will  enable  me  to  understand  the  two 
great  speeches.  This  really  will  require  a  pretty  careful 
study  of  the  age  and  life  of  Demosthenes  in  Plutarch,  Mitford, 
Thirlwall,  and  such  other  helps  as  I  can  command.  Con 
temporary  authors  there  are  none  since  Theopompus  is  per 
ished  ;  and  I  appreciate  the  difficulty  of  the  search  for  truth. 
Happy  if  I  find  enough  for  my  mere  critical  and  rhetorical 
purposes." 

The  purpose  suggested  above,  on  devoting  himself  to 
a  work  on  the  history  and  culture  of  Greece,  was  one 
which  he  doubtless  pretty  seriously  entertained.  He 
used,  sometimes,  to  speak  to  his  family,  half  jocosely 
and  half  in  earnest,  of  his  "  immortal  work,"  and  I 
think  he  did  not  quite  abandon  the  plan  until  after 
Mr.  Grote's  history  was  published. 

The  subjects  which  presented  themselves  for  the  con 
sideration  of  Congress  during  the  session  of  1844-45 
were  of  considerable  consequence.  Foremost  among 
them  was  the  annexation  of  Texas.  During  the  pre 
vious  session,  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the 
President,  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  accomplish 
this  object  by  treaty.  A  treaty  was  therefore  nego 
tiated  by  Mr.  Calhoun,  Secretary  of  State,  and  Mr.  Van 
Zandt,  representative  of  Texas.  When  presented  to 
the  Senate,  however,  it  was  rejected  by  a  very  decisive 
vote.  An  attempt  was  now  made  to  reach  the  same 
end  by  resolutions,  which  were  introduced  in  the  Sen 
ate,  by  Mr.  M'Duffie,  and  in  the  House,  by  Mr.  Inger- 
soll.  The  subject  was  not  fairly  reached  in  the  Senate 
until  the  13th  of  February,  1845,  and  after  the  reso 
lutions  had  passed  the  House.  The  debate  was  con 
ducted  with  great  ability,  and  by  the  leading  men  on 


136  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

both  sides  of  the  chamber,  by  Mr.  Buchanan,  Mr. 
Walker,  Mr.  Woodbury,  and  others,  on  the  one  side, 
and  by  Mr.  Choate,  Mr.  Dayton,  Mr.  Crittenden,  and 
Mr.  Berrien,  to  name  no  more,  on  the  other.  The 
interest  in  the  discussion  was  heightened  by  the  fact 
that  the  Senate  was  nearly  equally  divided  on  the 
subject.  Mr.  Choate  spoke  on  the  18th  of  February 
for  nearly  three  hours.  There  is  no  full  report  of 
this  speech,  which  is  said  to  have  been  of  very  great 
power. 

The  grounds  on  which  he  opposed  the  measure  were 
mainly  these  two :  1st,  That  it  was  beyond  the  con 
stitutional  power  of  Congress ;  2d,  That  even  if  con 
stitutional,  it  was  inexpedient.  These  points  he  ar 
gued  at  considerable  length,  enforcing  his  argument, 
as  the  report  says,  with  "  innumerable  illustrations." 
Looking  at  the  period  before  the  Constitution  was 
formed,  he  contended  that  "  in  framing  the  Constitu 
tion,  when  the  sovereign  power  of  the  people  was  to  be 
delegated,  the  grant  was  intended  to  be  in  express 
terms,  such  as  the  power  to  declare  war,  make  peace, 
regulate  commerce  with  foreign  nations,  levy  taxes, 
<fcc.  But  no  such  power  as  that  of  admitting  foreign 
nations  into  the  Union  was  delegated,  or  it  would  have 
been  also  explicitly  granted."  Looking  at  the  Consti 
tution  itself,  he  endeavored  to  show  that  the  power  to 
admit  new  States  was  not  intended  to  imply  the  vast 
power  of  admitting  foreign  governments.  This  he 
denied  could  be  done  by  any  power  but  the  primary, 
sovereign  power  of  the  people  themselves,  either  by 
agreement  to  amend  the  Constitution  so  as  to  grant  the 
express  authority,  or  otherwise.  "  Until  it  was  found," 
he  said,  "  that  the  treaty  of  the  last  session  had  no 


1844-1845.]     SPEECH  AGAINST  ANNEXING  TEXAS.         137 

chance  of  passing  the  Senate,  no  human  being  save 
one,  no  man,  woman,  or  child,  in  this  Union  or  out  of 
this  Union,  was  ever  heard  to  breathe  one  syllable 
about  this  power  in  the  Constitution  of  admitting  new 
States  being  applicable  to  the  admission  of  foreign 
nations,  governments,  or  States.  With  one  exception, 
till  ten  months  ago,  no  such  doctrine  was  ever  heard, 
or  even  entertained."  The  exception  to  which  he  allud 
ed  was  the  letter  of  Mr.  Macon  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  which 
Mr.  Jefferson  so  promptly  rebuked,  that  the  insinuation 
was  never  again  repeated,  u  till  it  was  found  necessary 
ten  months  ago  by  some  one,  —  he  would  not  say  with 
Texas  scrip  in  his  pocket,  —  but  certainly  with  Texas 
annexation  very  much  at  heart,  who  brought  it  forward 
into  new  life,  and  urged  it  as  the  only  proper  mode  of 
exercising  an  express  grant  of  the  Constitution."  This 
he  regarded  as  a  new  and  monstrous  heresy  on  the  Con 
stitution,  got  up  not  from  any  well-founded  faith  in  its 
orthodoxy,  but  for  the  mere  purpose  of  carrying  a 
measure  by  a  bare  majority  of  Congress,  that  could  not 
be  carried  by  a  two-thirds  majority  of  the  Senate  in 
accordance  with  the  treaty-making  power. 

In  conclusion,  alluding  to  some  criticism  upon  his 
own  State,  he  said  "  Massachusetts  asks  nothing  but 
what  the  Constitution  has  given  to  her,  and  there  is 
nothing  in  the  Constitution,  however  peculiar,  however 
different  from  her  views  of  policy,  that  she  will  seek 
to  stir,  or  ask  to  be  invaded.  Keep  the  Constitution 
and  the  Constitution  will  keep  you.  Break  into  it  in 
search  of  secret  curiosities  which  you  cannot  find  there, 
and  there  is  no  longer  security,  —  no  longer  any  thing 
between  you  and  us  and  the  unappeasable,  unchained 
spirit  of  the  age." 


138  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  V. 

The  resolution,  or  rather  an  amendment  "  leaving  it 
at  the  discretion  of  the  President,  whether  resort 
should  be  had  to  negotiation,  or  Texas  '  be  admitted  by 
virtue  of  this  act,'  and  become  an  independent  State," 
was  finally  passed  by  a  majority  of  two,  and  having 
again  gone  through  the  House,  President  Tyler  signed 
the  bill,  among  the  last  of  his  official  acts. 

A  bill  was  also  introduced  at  this  session  to  admit 
Iowa  and  Florida  into  the  Union.  Though  not  opposed 
to  the  admission  of  new  States,  Mr.  Choate  strongly 
objected  to  the  extraordinary  method  of  a  joint  bill, 
making  the  admission  of  the  one  dependent  upon  that 
of  the  other.  Some  things  in  the  constitution  of 
Florida  he  considered  to  be  ill-advised  if  not  unconsti 
tutional.  When,  therefore,  Mr.  Evans  proposed  as  an 
amendment  that  Florida  should  not  be  admitted  until 
those  articles  should  be  struck  from  her  constitution 
which  took  from  her  General  Assembly  the  power  to 
pass  laws  for  the  emancipation  of  slaves,  and  to  pass 
laws  preventing  free  negroes  or  other  persons  of  color 
from  immigrating  to  the  State,  or  from  being  dis 
charged  from  any  vessel  in  any  of  the  ports  of  the 
State,  Mr.  Choate  supported  it.  He  did  it,  though 
reluctantly,  because  the  articles  seemed  to  be  contrary 
to  the  Federal  Constitution.  Admitting  that  Florida 
had  the  right  to  pass  such  municipal  laws  as  her  cir 
cumstances  required,  he  wished  that  those  who  denied 
their  constitutionality  might  go  to  the  Supreme  Court 
without  being  met  by  the  adverse  action  of  Congress. 
Massachusetts  was  even  then  engaged  in  a  controversy 
with  two  other  States  involving  the  questions  here 
brought  to  notice,  and  all  that  he  solicited  was  an 
opportunity  to  have  the  right  of  the  Southern  States 


1844-1845.]         SMITHSONIAN  INSTITUTION.  139 

to  arrest  the  colored  citizens  of  the  North,  brought 
directly  before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  its  decision ;  a  decision,  whatever  it  were,  that 
Massachusetts  would  be  sure  to  respect. 

Of  all  the  objects,  however,  which  came  before  the 
Senate  during  the  session,  none  interested  Mr.  Choate 
more  deeply  than  the  organization  of  the  Smithsonian 
Institution.  The  will  of  James  Smithson,  containing 
his  munificent  bequest,  was  dated  October  23,  1826, 
nearly  three  years  before  his  death.1  The  bequest  was 
accepted  by  Congress  in  1836,  and  the  money  was  re 
ceived  by  the  Government  of  the  United  States  on  the 
1st  of  September,  1838.  The  disposition  of  so  large  a 
fund,  amounting  to  more  than  half  a  million  of  dollars, 
became  a  matter  of  much  solicitude  to  all  who  regarded 
the  interests  of  knowledge,  or  the  honor  of  the  country. 
Many  were  afraid,  that  through  the  recklessness  of 
parties,  it  would  in  some  way  be  lost.  If  preserved, 
intelligent  men  differed  as  to  the  use  to  be  made  of 
it.  In  the  summer  of  1838,  by  order  of  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  letters  were  addressed  to  eminent 
persons  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  soliciting  ad 
vice.  As  might  have  been  anticipated,  the  opinions 
were  as  diverse  as  the  men.  John  Quincy  Adams, 
who  had  devoted  much  thought  to  the  subject,  recom 
mended  that  the  income  of  the  fund,  for  a  series  of 
years,  should  be  devoted  to  establishing  a  National 
Observatory.  President  Wayland  sketched  the  plan  of 
a  University.  Mr.  Rush  proposed  the  collection  of 
seeds,  plants,  objects  of  natural  history,  and  antiqui 
ties,  and,  in  addition,  courses  of  lectures,  which  should 
be  free  to  a  certain  number  of  young  men  from  each 

i  Smithson  died  June  27, 1829. 


140  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  V. 

State.  Other  plans  were  also  suggested,  and  the  sub 
ject  was  discussed  from  time  to  time  in  both  branches 
of  Congress,  without,  however,  leading  to  any  definite 
result.  In  December,  1844,  Mr.  Tappan,  a  Senator 
from  Ohio,  brought  in  a  bill  similar  to  one  which  he 
had  advocated  during  a  former  session,  providing  for 
the  selection  of  grounds  for  purposes  of  agriculture  and 
horticulture,  the  erection  of  buildings,  and  the  appoint 
ment  of  Professors  and  Lecturers.  An  Institution,  he 
thought,  would  thus  be  established  similar  in  plan  and 
results  to  the  Garden  of  Plants  in  Paris. 

Mr.  Choate  was  so  anxious  for  some  organization 
that  he  stood  ready  to  vote  for  any  reasonable  proposi 
tion  which  would  command  a  majority,  but  another 
scheme,  radically  different  from  that  proposed  by  the 
bill,  seemed  to  him  so  much  to  be  preferred,  that  on 
the  8th  of  January,  1845,  he  offered,  as  an  amend 
ment,  what  was  called  the  Librciry  Plan.  The  charac 
teristic  feature  of  this  was  a  provision  that  a  sum  not 
less  than  $20,000  should  be  annually  expended  for  the 
purchase  of  books  and  manuscripts  for  the  formation 
of  a  Library,  which  for  extent,  completeness,  and 
value,  "  should  be  worthy  of  the  donor  of  the  fund, 
and  of  this  nation,  and  of  this  age."  There  were 
reasons  at  that  time  for  such  a  disposition  of  the 
legacy,  which  do  not  to  the  same  extent  exist  now. 
Not  a  library  in  the  country  then  numbered  more  than 
50,000  volumes,  and  the  one  or  two  which  contained  so 
many,  had  no  funds  for  their  large  increase,  or  even 
adequate  to  their  preservation.  The  bill  thus  amended, 
was  amply  discussed,  and  finally  passed  the  Senate 
January  23,  1845.  It  being  the  short  session  of  Con 
gress,  the  subject  was  not  reached  in  the  House  in 


1844-1845.]         SMITHSONIAN  INSTITUTION.  141 

season  for  a  vote.  Mr.  Choate  left  the  Senate  in  March, 
and  of  course  had  no  further  public  agency  in  the 
organization.  During  the  next  session,  however,  a  new 
bill,  substantially  the  same  as  that  proposed  by  Mr. 
Choate,  was  carried  through  the  House,  mainly  by  the 
exertions  of  Hon.  George  P.  Marsh,  then  a  member 
from  Vermont.  It  authorized  the  Regents  to  make  an 
appropriation  not  exceeding  an  average  of  $25,000 
annually,  for  the  formation  of  a  library,  composed  of 
valuable  works  pertaining  to  all  departments  of  human 
knowledge.  Several  other  plans  were  urged,  but  all 
were  rejected,  and  the  bill  which  passed,  took  its  final 
shape  from  a  series  of  amendments  proposed  by  Mr. 
Marsh,  "  all  with  a  view,"  as  he  said,  "  to  direct  the 
appropriation  entirely  to  the  purposes  of  a  library."  In 
the  Senate,  the  bill  was  referred  to  a  Select  Committee, 
and  after  free  discussion  and  the  rejection  of  several 
amendments,  finally  passed  that  body  precisely  as  it 
came  from  the  House.  It  was  approved  by  the  Presi 
dent,  and  became  a  law  August  10,  1846. 

It  may  be  proper  to  state  here  briefly  and  with  ref 
erence  only  to  results,  Mr.  Choate's  subsequent  con 
nection  with  an  Institution  in  the  establishment  and 
welfare  of  which  he  had  taken  so  deep  an  interest. 
He  was  elected  a  member  of  its  first  Board  of  Regents ; 
an  honor  eminently  due  to  his  efforts  in  its  behalf,  and 
to  the  fact  that  the  plan  of  a  library,  which  he  had  in 
itiated,  had  been  adopted  by  Congress.  At  the  first 
meeting  of  the  Board,  a  committee  was  appointed,  of 
which  Mr.  Choate  was  the  chairman,  to  prepare  a  re 
port  upon  the  formation  of  a  library,  and  in  accordance 
with  their  recommendation,  the  Board  appropriated 
$20,000  out  of  the  interest  of  the  fund,  for  the  purchase 


142  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

of  books,  and  the  gradual  fitting  np  of  a  library.  A 
committee  was  also  raised  to  prepare  extended  lists  of 
books  in  different  departments  of  learning,  proper  to 
be  first  purchased.  Notwithstanding  this  beginning, 
however,  a  strong  opposition  to  the  library  existed 
among  the  Regents,  some  of  whom  had,  from  the  first, 
favored  a  plan  subsequently  known  as  the  "  system  of 
active  operations."  As  a  means  of  conciliation,  it  was 
voted,  early  in  the  next  year,  to  divide  the  income 
equally  between  the  two  classes  of  objects,  the  Library, 
Museum,  and  Gallery  of  Art,  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
Publication  of  Transactions,  Original  Researches,  and 
Lectures,  on  the  other.  This  was  proposed  and  ac 
cepted  as  a  compromise,  although  by  some  acquiesced 
in  with  reluctance.  Mr.  Marsh,  especially,  was  so 
convinced  of  its  failure  to  meet  the  intent  of  the  law, 
that  he  proposed  to  invoke  again  the  action  of  Con 
gress,  and  yielded  only  to  repeated  solicitations,  and 
to  a  reluctance  to  disturb  an  arrangement,  in  which 
the  public  generally  had  no  great  interest,  and  which, 
it  was  hoped,  would  conciliate  all  parties.  The  friends 
of  the  original  plan  of  Congress  were,  however,  doomed 
to  greater  disappointment.  The  genius  of  the  Institu 
tion  bent  to  science,  not  to  letters.  Years  rolled  on, 
and  the  library  was  suffered  to  languish  in  the  shade. 
Instead  of  a  vigorous  effort  to  increase  it  by  a  syste 
matic  application  of  appropriated  funds,  a  proposition 
was  made  to  annul  the  compromise  itself,  and  leave 
the  apportionment  of  the  expenditures  to  the  annual 
determination  of  the  Board  of  Regents.  A  section  of 
the  law  providing  that  "  of  any  other  moneys  accruing 
as  interest  upon  the  fund,  not  appropriated,  the  man 
agers  may  make  such  disposal  as  they  shall  deem  best 


1844-1845.]  SMITHSONIAN  INSTITUTION.  143 

suited  for  promoting  the  purpose  of  the  testator,"  was 
relied  on  as  conferring  the  requisite  authority  for  this 
change  of  plan. 

Of  this  proposition  Mr.  Choate  wrote  from  Boston, 
February  4,  1854  :  — 

"  Situated  so  far  off,  I  cannot  comprehend  the  rea 
sons  on  which  the  compromise  is  sought  to  be  dis 
turbed.  It  was  the  result  of  years  of  disagreeing 
opinions,  and  of  reflections  on  all  modes  of  administer 
ing  the  fund.  The  claims  of  the  methods  of  publica 
tion  of  papers,  and  of  the  collection  of  books  and 
specimens  of  art,  were  thoroughly  canvassed,  and 
respectively  well  understood.  The  necessity  of  recon 
ciling  opinions  by  concession  was  seen  to  be  coercive. 
It  was  yielded  to,  and  the  matter  was  put,  as  it  was 
thought,  at  rest.  It  has  been  acted  on  long  enough  to 
demonstrate,  that  if  adhered  to  honorably  and  calmly 
and  permanently,  without  restlessness  and  without  am 
bition,  except  to  do  good  and  to  pursue  truth  under 
and  according  to  it,  it  will  assuredly  work  out  great, 
visible^  and  enduring  results,  in  as  much  variety  of 
form,  satisfactory  to  as  large  a  variety  of  opinions,  as 
can  be  expected  of  any  thing. 

"For  myself  I  should  deplore  any  change  in  the  dis 
tribution  of  the  fund.  I  appreciate  the  claims  of 
science  on  the  Institution ;  and  the  contributions 
which,  in  the  form  of  discovery  and  investigation, 
under  its  able  Secretary,  it  is  making  to  good  knowl 
edge.  But  I  insist  that  it  owes  a  great  library  to  the 
Capital  of  the  New  World  ;  .something  to  be  seen, — 
preserved, —  and  to  grow, —  into  which  shall  be 
slowly,  but  surely  and  judiciously,  gathered  the  best 
thoughts  of  all  the  civilizations.  God  forbid  that  we 


144  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

should  not  have  reach,  steadiness,  and  honor  enough 
to  adhere  to  this  as  one  great  object  of  the  fund, 
solemnly  proposed,  and  never  to  be  lost  sight  of." 

He  subsequently  opposed  this  new  plan  before  the 
Board,  in  a  speech,  of  which  there  is  no  record,  but 
which  one  of  the  Regents  said,  was  "  the  most  beauti 
ful  that  ever  fell  from  human  lips ; "  and  another,  Mr. 
Douglas,  added,  "  that  it  seemed  impertinence  for  any 
body  else  after  it  to  say  a  word."  It  did  not  avail. 
The  Board  was  predetermined,  and  Mr.  Choate,  who 
had  been  re-elected  as  Regent  but  a  short  time  before, 
at  once  concluded  to  resign  his  position.  It  was  in 
convenient  for  him  to  attend  the  meetings,  and  having 
no  longer  the  interest  of  the  library  to  lead  him 
there,  he  chose  not  to  be  even  indirectly  responsible 
for  the  proceedings.  There  were  other  circumstances 
which  urged  him  also  to  the  same  conclusion,  among 
which,  doubtless,  was  his  sympathy  with  Professor 
Jewett,  who  had  been  summarily  deprived  of  his  posi 
tion  as  Librarian.  He  accordingly  sent  his  resignation 
in  the  following  letter :  — 

"  To  Hoy.  JESSE  P.  BRIGHT,  President  pro  tempore  of  the  Senate,  and 
HON.  LiNN-BoYD,  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives :  — 

"  I  take  leave  to  communicate  to  the  two  Houses  of  Con 
gress  my  resignation  of  the  office  of  Regent  of  the  Smithson 
ian  Institution. 

"  It  is  due  to  the  body  which  has  been  pleased  to  honor  me 
with  this  trust  for  some  years,  and  has  recently  conferred  it 
for  a  new  term,  to  say  that  this  step  is  taken  not  from  any 
loss  of  interest  in  the  welfare  of  that  important  establishment, 
but  in  part  from  the  inconvenience  experienced  in  attending 
the  meetings,  and  in  part,  also,  and  more  immediately,  from 
my  inability  to  concur  or  acquiesce  in  an  interpretation  of  the 
Act  of  Congress  constituting  the  actual  Institution  and  the 
Board  of  Regents,  which  has  been  adopted,  and  is  now  about 


1844-1845.]      RESIGNS  HIS  PLACE  AS  REGENT.  145 

to  be  practically  carried  into  administration  by  a  majority  of 
the  Board.  That  act,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  peremptorily 
4  directs  a  manner,'  and  devises  and  prescribes  a  plan,  accord 
ing  to  which  it  intends  that  the  Institution  shall  accomplish 
the  will  of  the  donor.  By  the  earlier  law  accepting  the  gift, 
Congress  engaged  to  direct  such  a  manner  and  to  devise  such 
a  plan;  and  pledged  the  faith,  of  the  United  States  that  the 
funds  should  be  applied  according  to  such  plan  and  such  man 
ner.  In  fulfilment  of  that  pledge,  and  in  the  performance  of 
its  inalienable  and  incommunicable  duty  as  trustee  of  the  char 
ity,  that  body,  after  many  years  of  deliberation  —  from  which  it 
never  sought  to  relieve  itself  by  devolving  the  work  upon  the 
discretion  of  others  —  matured  its  plan,  and  established  the 
actual  Institution  to  carry  it  out.  Of  this  plan,  the  general 
features  are  sketched  with  great  clearness  and  great  com 
pleteness  in  I  he  law.  Without  resorting  for  aid,  in  its  inter 
pretation,  to  its  parliamentary  history,  the  journals  and 
debates,  the  substantial  meaning  seems  to  be  palpable  and  un 
equivocal  in  its  terms.  By  such  aid  it  is  rendered  quite 
certain.  A  Board  of  Regents  is  created  to  administer  it. 
Some  discretionary  powers,  of  course,  are  given  to  the  Board 
in  regard  of  details,  and  in  regard  of  possible  surpluses  of  in 
come  which  may  remain  at  any  given  time,  while  the  plan 
of  Congress  is  being  zealously  and  judiciously  carried  into 
effect;  but  these  discretionary  powers  are  given,  I  think,  in 
trust  for  the  plan  of  Congress,  and  as  auxiliary  to,  co-operative 
with,  and  executory  of  it.  They  were  given  for  the  sake  of 
the  plan,  simply  to  enable  the  Regents  the  more  effectually 
and  truly  to  administer  that  very  one  —  not  to  enable  them 
to  devise  and  administer  another  of  their  own,  unauthorized 
in  the  terms  of  the  law,  incompatible  with  its  announced  ob 
jects  and  its  full  development  —  not  alluded  to  in  it  anywhere, 
and  which,  as  the  journals  and  the  debates  inform  us,  when 
presented  to  the  House  under  specific  propositions,  was  re 
jected. 

"  Of  this  act  an  interpretation  has  now  been  adopted  by 
which,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  these  discretionary  means  of  car 
rying  the  will  of  Congress  into  effect  are  transformed  into 
means  of  practically  disappointing  that  will,  and  of  building 
up  an  institution  substantially  unlike  that  which  it  intended ; 
which  supersedes  and  displaces  it,  and  in  effect  repeals  the 
law.  Differences  of  opinion  had  existed  in  the  Board  from 
its  first  meeting,  in  regard  of  the  administration  of  the  act ; 

10 


146  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  V. 

but  they  were  composed  by  a  resolution  of  compromise,  ac 
cording  to  which  a  full  half  of  the  annual  income  was  to  be 
eventually  applied  in  permanence  to  what  I  deem  the  essen 
tial  parts  of  the  plan  of  Congress.  That  resolution  of  com 
promise  is  now  formally  rescinded,  and  henceforward  the 
discretion  of  the  Regents,  and  not  the  act  of  Congress,  is  to 
be  the  rule  of  appropriation ;  and  that  discretion  has  already 
declared  itself  for  another  plan  than  what  I  deem  the  plan  of 
Congress.  It  may  be  added  that  under  the  same  interpreta 
tion,  the  office  and  powers  of  secretary  are  fundamentally 
changed  from,  those  of  the  secretary  of  the  law,  as  I  read  it, 
and  are  greatly  enlarged. 

"  In  this  interpretation  I  cannot  acquiesce  ;  and  with  entire 
respect  for  the  majority  of  the  Board,  and  with  much  kindness 
and  regard  to  all  its  members,  I  am  sure  that  my  duty  re 
quires  a  respectful  tender  of  resignation.  I  make  it  accord 
ingly,  and  am  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE. 

"WASHINGTON,  D.C.,  January  13, 1855." 

The  reception  of  this  letter  excited  some  commotion 
in  Congress,  and  gave  rise  to  sharp  debates.  The 
House  of  Representatives  appointed  a  select  com 
mittee,  to  whom  it  was  referred,  with  directions  to 
inquire  into  the  management  and  expenditure  of  the 
funds  of  the  Institution.  The  two  letters  which  follow, 
to  the  chairman  of  the  committee,  will  show  more  com 
pletely  Mr.  Choate's  views  and  feelings :  — 

To  Hox.  CHARLES  W.  UFIIAM. 

"  BOSTON,  February  2,  1855. 

"  HON.  C-  W.  UPHAM,  —  My  dear  Sir :  I  happened  to  be 
quite  sick  when  your  letters  reached  me,  and  am  only  now 
able  to  go  out,  without  being  equal  to  any  thing.  It  would 
afford  me  the  truest  pleasure  to  be  able  to  transmit  to  the 
committee  a  few  thoughts  on  the  sense  of  the  act  of  Congress. 
That,  if  read  carefully,  by  the  lights  of  its  history,  and  with  a 
mind  not  pre-occupied,  it  makes  a  plan  which,  until  a  new 
law  is  passed,  the  Regents  were  bound  to  execute  heartily,  — 
is,  however,  so  clear,  that  I  do  not  see  what  can  be  added  to 
the  bare  enunciation.  It  happened  to  it  just  what  happened 


1844-1845.]        LETTER  TO  HON.  C.  W.  UPHAM.  147 

to  the  Constitution.  It  was  opposed  because  it  was  a  Library 
measure,  until  it  became  a  law,  and  then  a  metaphysics  was 
applied  to  it  to  show  that  it  was  no  Library  measure  after  all. 
I  await  with  great  interest  the  proceedings  of  your  committee  ; 
and,  if  my  health  will  permit,  I  mean  to  address  something, 
less  or  more,  to  the  Hon.  Chairman  as  such. 
"  I  am,  most  truly, 

"  Your  ob't  servant  and  friend, 

"  RUFUS    ClIOATE." 


To  HON.  CHARLES  W.  UPHAM. 

"  BOSTON,  February  19, 1855. 

"  DEAR  MR.  UPHAM,  —  I  am  distressed  to  find  that  it  will 
not  be  possible  for  me  to  prepare  any  thing  for  the  eye  of  the 
committee.  My  engagements  are  so  utterly  out  of  proportion 
to  my  health,  that  I  am  prostrated  and  imbecile  for  all  effort 
but  the  mill-horse  walk  of  my  daily  tasks.  It  was  never  my 
purpose  to  do  more  than  discuss  the  question  of  the  intent  of 
Congress.  The  intent  of  Smithson  is  not  the  problem  now. 
It  is  the  intent  of  Congress ;  and  that  is  so  transparent,  and 
is  so  evidenced  by  so  many  distinct  species  of  proof,  that  I 
really  feel  that  I  should  insult  the  committee  by  arguing  it. 
That  Congress  meant  to  devise  a  plan  of  its  own  is  certain. 
The  uniform  opinion  of  men  in  Congress  from  the  start  had 
been  that  it  must  do  so.  Hence,  solely,  the  years  of  delay, 
caused  by  the  difficulties  of  devising  a  plan.  Why  not  have 
at  once  made  a  Board,  and  devolved  all  on  them  ?  But  who 
ever  thought  of  such  a  thing  ?  If,  then,  Congress  would  mean, 
and  had  meant,  to  frame  a  plan,  what  is  it  ?  Nothing,  unless 
it  is  that  of  collections  of  books,  specimens  of  art  and  nature, 
and  possibly  lectures.  It  is  either  these  exactly,  or  it  is  just 
what  the  Regents  please.  But  it  cannot  be  the  latter,  and 
then  it  is  these. 

"  1 .  These   are   provided   for   in   terms ;  nothing  else   is. 

2.  The   debates   show    that   all   things   else   were   rejected. 

3.  The   only  difficulties  are   these  two:  1st,  It   is  said  dis 
cretionary  powers  are  given  to  the  Regents.     Yes ;  but  how 
does  good  faith  require  these  to  be  interpreted?     Are  they 
limited  or  unlimited  ?    If  the  latter,  then  Congress  has  framed 
and  preferred  no  plan  of  its  own,  but  has  committed  every 
thing  to  the  uncontrolled  fancies  of  the   Regents.     This,  if 
their  discretionary  powers  are  unlimited.     But  how  absurd  to 


148  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   ClIOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

say  this,  against  an  act  so  loaded  with  details,  and  whose  his 
tory  shows  it  carefully  constructed  to  embody  a  plan  of  Con 
gress  !  If,  then,  the  discretionary  powers  are  limited,  how 
are  they  limited  ?  So  as  to  subserve  and  help  out  the  plan  of 
Congress,  primarily  and  chiefly  ;  and  when  the  good  of  that 
plan  may  be  best  advanced  by  a  little  surplus  here  or  there, 
they  may  do  with  that  rare  and  exceptional  case  what  they 
will.  2d,  The  second  difficulty  is,  that  the  Regents  are  not 
directed  to  expend  at  hast  so  much,  but  not  above.  The  diffi 
culty,  as  they  put  it,  assumes  that  there  can  be  no  satisfactory 
evidence  of  a  plan  of  Congress,  unless  by  express  language 
enacting,  *  this  is  the  plan  of  Congress,'  or  '  it  is  the  intention 
of  Congress,  hereby,  that  the  income  shall  be  applied  exclu 
sively,  so  and  so,'  or,  that  *  whether  books  are  cheap  or  dear, 
a  certain  minimum  shall  in  every  year  be  laid  out  thereon,' 
or  some  other  express  equivalent  of  language.  But  this  is 
foolish.  If  the  whole  antecedent  action  in  Congress  from  the 
first  shows  that  Congress  understands  that  it  is  to  frame  a 
plan ;  if  the  history  of  this  act  shows  that  everybody  thought 
they  were  framing  a  plan  ;  if  then  you  find  one  in  all  its 
great  outlines  actually  sketched,  building,  spacious  rooms,  pro 
vision  for  books  and  specimens,  &c.,  &c.,  —  constituting  de 
facto  a  plan,  sufficient  to  exhaust  the  income  ;  and  if  you  find 
not  a  trace  of  any  other  mode  or  scheme,  how  absurd  to  de 
mand,  in  addition  to  all  this,  a  section  to  say,  '  By  the  way, 
Congress  weans  something  by  all  this  pother;  and  it  means 
that  the  plan  it  has  thus  portrayed  is  the  plan  it  chooses  to 
have  executed.'  Suppose  a  law,  in  the  first  section  authoriz 
ing  a  ship  to  be  built  of  a  size  and  construction  specifically 
adapted  to  the  Arctic  navigation,  as  our  building  is  to  be  for 
books ;  and  in  a  second  section,  an  enactment  that  the  captain 
should  cruise  not  exceeding  ten  months  in  the  Arctic  Ocean  ; 
and  in  a  third,  that  if  he  have  any  spare  time  to  cruise,  he 
might  explore  any  other  sea  ;  could  he  go  one  month  to  the 
Arctic,  and  then  say  he  preferred  the  Mediterranean,  and 
cruise  there  eleven?  But  why  not?  There  are  no  express 
words.  But  there  is  other  evidence  of  legislative  intent,  — 
the  build  of  the  ship,  and  the  solicitous  provision  for  a  par 
ticular  sea,  and  the  silence  about  all  others,  and  the  stupendous 
dissimilarity  in  the  two  adventures.  If,  besides,  you  found 
a  Congressional  history,  showing  that  everybody  understood 
Congress  was  selecting  its  own  sea,  motions  made  to  divide 
the  )ear  with  the  Mediterranean,  and  rejected,  it  would  be 


1844-1845.]          LETTER   TO    MRS.  BRINLEY.  149 

altogether  quite  the  case.  But  I  beg  your  pardon  for  these 
platitudes.  I  entreat  you  to  do  two  things  :  1.  Vindicate  the 
sense  of  the  law.  2.  Vindicate  art,  taste,  learning,  genius, 

mind,  history,  ethnology,  morals 

'•  I  am  most  anxiously  and  faithfully  yours, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  Mr.  Choate —  author  and 
-successful  defender  of  the  library  plan,  as  he  was  — 
suffered  a  great  disappointment  in  the  final  disposition 
of  the  fund.  He  felt  that  it  by  no  means  met  the  pur 
pose  of  the  Congress  that  passed  the  act ;  and,  looking 
to  permanent  and  comprehensive  effects,  would  not  be 
likely  to  secure  a  result  so  conspicuous,  so  noble,  so 
worthy  of  the  nation,  so  free  from  the  possibility  of  per 
version,  or  so  directly  meeting  the  great  want  of  the 
learned,  cultivated,  inquisitive,  and  thoughtful  through 
out  the  whole  land,  as  if  mainly  or  largely  devoted  to 
a  library. 

In  the  spring  of  1845  Mr.  Choate  lost  his  brother-in- 
law,  Dr.  Sewali,  to  whom  in  early  life  lie  had  been  so 
much  indebted  for  advice  and  assistance,  and  whose 
house  in  Washington  had  often  been  his  home.  The 
following  letter  to  his  relative,  Mrs.  Brinley,  who  was 
then  in  Dr.  SewalPs  family,  was  written  before  the 
news  of  his  death  had  reached  Boston. 

To  MRS.  FRANCIS  BRINLEY. 

"  Thursday,  Fast  Day,  1845. 

"  MY  DEAR  COUSIN  SARAH,  —  No  one  can  express  my  ob 
ligations  to  you  for  your  faithful  kindness  and  thoughtfulness 
during  all  this  great  affliction  at  the  Doctor's.  God  bless  you 
for  it  all.  I  have  mourned  deeply  over  the  sad  and  surprising 
event,  although  I  had  again  conceived  the  strongest  hopes  of 
his  recovery.  Give  my  best  love  to  all  who  are  alive.  I 
wisli  my  nephew,  Thomas,  would  convey  to  his  father,  if  liv 
ing,  my  thanks  and  profound  gratitude  for  a  life  of  kindness 


150  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  V. 

to  me,  and  would  —  as  he  will — soothe  his  mother.  ...  If 
you  leave  Washington,  and  this  change  happens  at  the  Doc- 
tors's.  it  is  a  spot  blotted  for  ever  from  the  earth.  ...  I  know 
not  what  to  write,  because  I  know  not  how  or  what  or  who 
you  all  are.  Pray  accept  my  love,  and  give  it  to  all  our  dear 
friends.  How  happy  for  you  that  Miss  C.,  so  agreeable, 
so  composed,  and  so  sympathetic,  is  with  you.  God  bless 
you. 

"  R.  CIIOATE." 


1845-1849.]     ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  LAW  SCHOOL.      151 


CHAPTER    VI. 

1845-1849. 

Address  before  the  Law  School  in  Cambridge  —  Argues  the  Case  of 
Rhode  Island  v.  Massachusetts  —  Defence  of  Tirrell  —  The  Oliver 
Smith's  Will  Case  —  Speaks  in  favor  of  General  Taylor  —  Offer  of 
a  Professorship  in  the  Cambridge  Law  School  —  Offer  of  a  Seat 
upon  the  Bench  —  The  Phillips  Will  Case  —  Journal. 

ON  leaving  the  Senate,  Mr.  Choate  for  a  time  bade 
farewell  to  politics,  and  returned  without  regret  to  the 
narrower  sphere  of  the  city  and  the  courts.  He  had 
become  known  for  his  intrepid  and  successful  manage 
ment  of  difficult  cases.  These  were  often  intrusted  to 
him  when  he  would  gladly  have  avoided  the  responsi 
bility,  if  his  sense  of  professional  cluty  would  have 
allowed;  but  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  refuse  his 
services  when  properly  solicited,  merely  because  the 
cause  was  distasteful,  or  the  client  possibly  undeserv 
ing  of  sympathy. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  1845,  he  delivered  an 
address  before  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge,  on  the 
"  Position  and  Functions  of  the  American  Bar,  as  an 
element  of  Conservatism  in  the  State." 

This  noble  address  is  replete  with  political  wisdom. 
It  shows  the  careful  student,  to  whom  the  lessons 
of  history  are  living,  and  urgent,  —  the  profound  and 
philosophical  observer  of  the  causes  of  national  pros 
perity  or  national  decay,  watchful  and  discriminating 


152  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

of  the  dangers  of  the  State.    A  few  pages  will  indicate, 
although  partially  and  inadequately,  the  drift  of  thought. 

"  And  so  the  dying  of  a  nation  begins  in  the  heart.  There 
are  sentiments  concerning  the  true  idea  of  the  State,  concerning 
law,  concerning  liberty,  concerning  justice,  so  active,  so  mortal, 
that  if  they  pervade  and  taint  the  general  mind,  and  transpire 
in  practical  politics,  the  commonwealth  is  lost  already.  It  was 
of  these  that  the  democracies  of  Greece,  one  after  another, 
miserably  died.  It  was  not  so  much  the  spear  of  the  great 
Emathiau  conqueror  which  bore  the  beaming  forehead  of 
Athens  to  the  dust,  as  it  was  that  diseased,  universal  opinion, 
those  tumultuous  and  fraudulent  practical  politics,  which  came 
at  last  to  supersede  the  constitution  of  Solon,  and  the  equiva 
lents  of  Pericles,  which  dethroned  the  reason  of  the  State, 
shattered  and  dissolved  its  checks,  balances,  and  securities 
against  haste  and  wrong,  annulled  its  laws,  repudiated  its 
obligations,  shamed  away  its  justice,  and  set  up  instead,  for 
rule,  the  passion,  ferocity,  and  caprice,  and  cupidity,  and  fraud 
of  a  flushed  majority,  cheated  and  guided  by  sycophants  and 
demagogues,  —  it  was  this  diseased  public  opinion  and  these 
politics,  its  fruits,  more  deadly  than  the  gold  or  the  phalanx  of 
Philip,  that  cast  her  down  untimely  from  her  throne  on  high. 

"  And  now,  what  are  these  sentiments  and  opinions  from 
which  the  public  mind  of  America  is  in  danger,  and  which  the 
studies  and  offices  oT  our  profession  have  fitted  us  and  impose 
on  us  the  duty  to  encounter  and  correct? 

"  In  the  first  place,  it  has  been  supposed  that  there  might  be 
detected,  not  yet  in  the  general  mind,  but  in  what  may  grow 
to  be  the  general  mind,  a  singularly  inadequate  idea  of  the 
State  as  an  unchangeable,  indestructible,  and,  speaking  after 
the  manner  of  men,  an  immortal  thing.  I  do  not  refer  at  this 
moment  exclusively  to  the  temper  in  which  the  Federal  Union 
is  regarded,  though  that  is  a  startling  illustration  of  the  more 
general  and  deeper  sentiment,  but  I  refer  in  a  larger  view  to 
what  some  have  thought  the  popular  or  common  idea  of  the 
civil  State  itself,  its  sacredness,  its  permanence,  its  ends,  —  in 
the  lofty  phrase  of  Cicero,  its  eternity.  The  tendency  appears 
to  be,  to  regard  the  whole  concern  as  an  association  altogether 
at  will,  and  at  the  will  of  everybody.  Its  boundary  lines,  its 
constituent  numbers,  its  physical,  social,  and  constitutional 
identity,  its  polity,  its  law,  its  continuance  for  ages,  its  dissolu 
tion, —  all  these  seem  to  be  held  in  the  nature  of  so  many  open 


1845-1849.]     ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  LAW  SCHOOL.      153 

questions.  Whether  our  country  —  words  so  simple,  so  ex 
pressive,  so  sacred ;  which,  like  father,  child,  wife,  should 
present  an  image  familiar,  endeared,  definite  to  the  heart  — 
whether  our  country  shall,  in  the  course  of  the  next  six 
months,  extend  to  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  the  Gulf,  or  be  con 
fined  to  the  parochial  limits  of  the  State  where  we  live,  or 
have  no  existence  at  all  for  us ;  where  its  centre  of  power 
shall  be;  whose  statues  shall  be  borne  in  ifs  processions; 
whose  names,  what  days,  what  incidents  of  glory  commemo 
rated  in  its  anniversaries,  and  what  symbols  blaze  on  its  flag, 
—  in  all  this  there  is  getting  to  be  a  rather  growing  habit  of 
politic  nou-committalism.  Having  learned  from  Rousseau 
and  Locke,  and  our  own  revolutionary  age,  its  theories  and 
its  acts,  that  the  State  is  nothing  but  a  contract,  rests  in 
contract,  springs  from  contract;  that  government  is  a  con 
trivance  of  human  wisdom  for  human  wants  ;  that  the  civil 
life,  like  the  Sabbath,  is  made  for  man,  not  man  for  either ; 
having  only  about  seventy  years  ago  laid  hold  of  an  arbi 
trary  fragment  of  the  British  empire,  and  appropriated  it 
to  ourselves,  which  is  all  the  country  we  ever  had ;  having 
gone  on  enlarging,  doubling,  trebling,  changing  all  this  since, 
as  a  garment  or  a  house  ;  accustomed  to  encounter  every  day, 
at  the  polls,  in  the  market,  at  the  miscellaneous  banquet  of  our 
Liberty  everywhere,  crowds  of  persons  whom  we  never  saw 
before,  strangers  in  the  country,  yet  just  as  good  citizens  as 
ourselves ;  with  a  whole  continent  before  us,  or  half  a  one,  to 
choose  a  home  in ;  teased  and  made  peevish  by  all  manner  of 
small,  local  jealousies ;  tormented  by  the  stimulations  of  a  revo 
lutionary  philanthropy;  enterprising,  speculative,  itinerant,  im 
proving,  'studious  of  change,  and  pleased  with  novelty' 
beyond  the  general  habit  of  desultory  man  ;  —  it  might  almost 
seem  to  be  growing  to  be  our  national  humor  to  hold  ourselves 
free  at  every  instant,  to  be  and  do  just  what  we  please,  go 
where  we  please,  stay  as  long  as  we  please  and  no  longer  ; 
and  that  the  State  itself  were  held  to  be  no  more  than  an  en 
campment  of  tents  on  the  great  prairie,  pitched  at  sun-down, 
and  struck  to  the  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle  next  morning,  in 
stead  of  a  structure,  stately  and  eternal,  in  which  the  genera 
tions  may  come,  one  after  another,  to  the  great  gift  of  this 
social  life. 

"  On  such  sentiments  as  these,  how  can  a  towering  and  dura 
ble  fabric  be  set  up?  To  use  the  metaphor  of  a-  o  i,  on 
such  soil  how  can  'greatness  be  sown'?  How  unlike  the 


154  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [  CHAP.  VI. 

lessons  of  the  masters,  at  whose  feet  you  are  bred!  The 
studies  of  our  profession  have  taught  us  that  the  State  is 
framed  for  a  duration  without  end,  —  without  end  —  till  the 
earth  and  the  heavens  be  no  more.  Sic  comtituta  civitas 
ut  eterna  !  In  the  eye  and  contemplation  of  law,  its  masses 
may  die ;  its  own  corporate  being  can  never  die.  If  we  in 
spect  the  language  of  its  fundamental  ordinance,  every  word 
expects,  assumes,  foretells  a  perpetuity,  lasting  as  '  the  great 
globe  itself,  and  all  which  it  inherit.'  If  we  go  out  of  that 
record  and  inquire  for  the  designs  and  the  hopes  of  its  founders 
ab  extra,  we  know  that  they  constructed  it,  and  bequeathed 
it,  for  the  latest  posterity.  If  we  reverently  rise  to  a  conjecture 
of  the  purposes  for  which  the  Ruler  of  the  world  permitted 
and  decreed  it  to  be  instituted,  in  order  to  discern  how  soon 
it  will  have  performed  its  office  and  may  be  laid  aside,  we  see 
that  they  reach  down  to  the  last  hour  of  the  life  of  the  last 
man  that  shall  live  upon  the  earth ;  that  it  was  designed  by 
the  Infinite  Wisdom,  to  enable  the  generation  who  framed  it, 
and  all  the  generations,  to  perfect  their  social,  moral,  and  re 
ligious  nature ;  to  do  and  to  be  good ;  to  pursue  happiness  ;  to 
be  fitted,  by  the  various  discipline  of  the  social  life,  by  obedi 
ence,  by  worship,  for  the  life  to  come.  When  these  ends  are 
all  answered,  the  State  shall  die !  When  these  are  answered, 
intereat  et  concidat  omnis  hie  mundus!  Until  they  are  an 
swered,  esto,  eritque  perpetua  ! 

"  In  the  next  place,  it  has  been  thought  that  there  was  de 
veloping  itself  in  the  general  sentiment,  and  in  the  practical 
politics  of  the  time,  a  tendency  towards  one  of  those  great 
changes  by  which  free  States  have  oftenest  perished,  —  a 
tendency  to  push  to  excess  the  distinctive  and  characteristic 
principles  of  our  system,  whereby,  as  Aristotle  has  said,  gov 
ernments  usually  perish,  —  a  tendency  towards  transition  from 
the  republican  to  the  democratical  era,  of  the  history  and 
epochs  of  liberty. 

"  Essentially  and  generally,  it  would  be  pronounced  by  those 
who  discern  it,  a  tendency  to  erect  the  actual  majority  of  the 
day  into  the  de  jure  and  actual  government  of  the  day.  It 
is  a  tendency  to  regard  the  actual  will  of  that  majority  as  the 
law  of  the  State.  It  is  a  tendency  to  regard  the  shortest  and 
simplest  way  of  collecting  that  will,  and  the  promptest  and 
most  irresistible  execution  of  it,  as  the  true  polity  of  liberty. 
It  is  a  tendency  which,  pressed  to  its  last  development, 
would,  if  considerations  of  mere  convenience  or  inconvenience 


1845-1849.]     ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  LAW  SCHOOL.       155 

did  not  hinder,  do  exactly  this :  it  would  assemble  the  whole 
people  in  a  vast  mass,  as  once  they  used  to  assemble  beneath 
the  sun  of  Athens  ;  and  there,  when  the  eloquent  had  spoken, 
and  the  wise  and  the  foolish  had  counselled,  would  commit  the 
transcendent  questions  of  war,  peace,  taxation,  and  treaties ; 
the  disposition  of  the  fortunes  and  honor  of  the  citizen  and 
statesman  ;  death,  banishment,  or  the  crown  of  gold ;  the  mak 
ing,  interpreting,  and  administration  of  the  law ;  and  all  the 
warm,  precious,  and  multifarious  interests  of  the  social  life,  to 
the  madness  or  the  jest  of  the  hour. 

"  I  have  not  time  to  present  what  have  been  thought  to  be 
the  proofs  of  the  existence  of  this  tendency ;  and  it  is  needless 
to  do  so.  It  would  be  presumptuous,  too,  to  speculate,  if  it 
has  existence,  on  its  causes  and  its  issues.  I  desire  to  advert 
to  certain  particulars  in  'which  it  may  be  analyzed,  and 
through  which  it  displays  itself,  for  the  purpose  of  showing 
that  the  studies,  employments,  and,  so  to  say,  professional 
politics,  of  the  bar  are  essentially,  perhaps  availably,  antagon- 
istical  to  it,  or  moderative  of  it. 

"  It  is  said,  then,  that  you  may  remark  this  tendency,  first, 
in  an  inclination  to  depreciate  the  uses  and  usurp  the  functions 
of  those  organic  forms  in  which  the  regular,  definite,  and 
legally  recognized  powers  of  .the  State  are  embodied,  —  to 
depreciate  the  uses  and  usurp  the  function  of  written  constitu 
tions,  limitations  on  the  legislature,  the  distribution  of  govern 
ment  into  departments,  the  independence  of  the  judiciary,  the 
forms  of  orderly  proceeding,  and  all  the  elaborate  and  costly 
apparatus  of  checks  and  balances,  by  which,  as  I  have  said, 
we  seek  to  secure  a  government  of  laws  and  not  of  men. 

" '  The  first  condition ' —  it  is  the  remark  of  a  man  of  great 
genius,  who  saw  very  far  by  glances  into  the  social  system, 
Coleridge,  — '  the  first  condition  in  order  to  a  sound  constitu 
tion  of  the  body  politic  is  a  due  proportion  between  the  free 
and  permeative  life  and  energy  of  the  State  and  its  organized 
powers.'  For  want  of  that  proportion  the  government  of 
Athens  was  shattered  and  dissolved.  For  want  of  that  pro 
portion  the  old  constitutions  of  Solon,  the  reforms  of  Clis- 
thenes,  the  sanctity  of  the  Areopagus,  the  temperaments  of 
Pericles,  were  burnt  up  in  the  torrent  blaze  of  an  unmitigated 
democracy.  Every  power  of  the  State  —  executive,  legal, 
judicial — was  grasped  by  the  hundred-handed  assembly  of 
the  people.  The  result  is  in  her  history.  She  became  a  by 
word  of  dissension  and  injustice  ;  and  that  was  her  ruin. 


156  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

I  wonder  how  long  that  incomprehensible  democracy  would 
have  hesitated,  after  the  spirit  of  permeative  liberty  had  got 
the  better  of  the  organized  forms,  upon  our  Spot  Pond,  and 
Long  Pond,  and  Charles  River  water-questions.  This  intol 
erable  hardship  and  circumlocution  of  applying  to  a  legisla 
ture  of  three  independent  and  co-ordinate  departments,  sitting 
under  a  written  constitution,  with  an  independent  judiciary  to 
hold  it  up  to  the  fundamental  law,  —  the  hardship  of  applying 
to  such  a  legislature  for  power  to  bring  water  into  the  city ; 
this  operose  machinery  of  orders  of  notice,  hearings  before 
committees,  adverse  reports,  favorable  reports  rejected,  dis 
agreements  of  the  two  Houses,  veto  of  Governor,  a  charter 
saving  vested  rights  of  other  people,  meetings  of  citizens  in 
wards  to  vote  unawed,  unwatched,  every  man  according  to  his 
sober  second  thought,  —  how  long  do  you  think  such  conven 
tionalities  as  these  would  have  kept  that  beautiful,  passionate, 
and  self-willed  Athens,  standing,  like  the  Tantalus  of  her  own 
poetry,  plunged  in  crystal  lakes  and  gentle  historical  rivers 
up  to  the  chin,  perishing  with  thirst  ?  Why,  some  fine,  sun 
shiny  forenoon,  you  would  have  heard  the  crier  calling  the 
people,  one  and  all,  to  an  extraordinary  assembly,  perhaps  in 
the  Piraeus,  as  a  pretty  full  expression  of  public  opinion  was 
desirable  and  no  other  place  would  hold  everybody  ;  you  would 
have  seen  a  stupendous  mass-meeting  roll  itself  together  as 
clouds  before  all  the  winds ;  standing  on  the  outer  edges  of 
which  you  could  just  discern  a  speaker  or  two  gesticulating, 
catch  a  murmur  as  of  waves  on  the  pebbly  beach,  applause,  a  loud 
laugh  at  a  happy  hit,  observe  some  six  thousand  hands  lifted 
to  vote  or  swear,  and  then  the  vast  congregation  would  sepa 
rate  and  subside,  to  be  seen  no  more.  And  the  whole  record 
of  the  transaction  would  be  made  up  in  some  half-dozen  lines 
to  this  effect,  —  it  might  be  in  ^Eschines,  —  that  in  the  month 
of ,  under  the  archonate  of ,  the  tribe  of ,  exer 
cising  the  office  of  prytanes ,  an  extraordinary  assembly 

was  called  to  consult  on  the  supply  of  water  ;  and  it  appear 
ing  that  some  six  persons  of  great  wealth  and  consideration 
had  opposed  its  introduction  for  some  time  past,  and  were 
moreover  vehemently  suspected  of  being  no  better  than  they 
should  be,  it  was  ordained  that  they  should  be  fined  in  round 
sums,  computed  to  be  enough  to  bring  in  such  a  supply  as 
would  give  every  man  equal  to  twenty-eight  gallons  a  day  ; 
and  a  certain  obnoxious  orator  having  inquired  what  possible 
need  there  was  for  so  much  a  head,  Demades,  the  son  of  the 


1845-1849.]    ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  LAW  SCHOOL.       157 

Mariner,  replied,  that  that  person  was  the  very  last  man  in  all 
Athens  who  should  put  that  question,  since  the  assembly  must 
see  that  he  at  least  could  use  it  to  great  advantage  by  wash 
ing  his  face,  hands,  and  robes;  and  thereupon  the  people 
laughed  and  separated. 

"  And  now  am  I  misled  by  the  influence  of  vocation  when  I 
venture  to  suppose  that  the  profession  of  the  Bar  may  do 
somewhat  —  should  be  required  to  do  somewhat  —  to  pre 
serve  the  true  proportion  of  liberty  to  organization,  —  to 
moderate  and  to  disarm  that  eternal  antagonism  ? 

"These  'organic  forms'  of  our  system,  —  are  they  not  in 
some  just  sense  committed  to  your  professional  charge  and 
care  ?  In  this  sense,  and  to  this  extent,  does  not  your  profes 
sion  approach  to,  and  blend  itself  with,  one,  and  that  not  the 
least  in  dignity  and  usefulness,  of  the  departments  of  states 
man  ship  ?  Are  you  not  thus  statesmen  while  you  are  law 
yers,  and  because  you  are  lawyers  ?  These  constitutions  of 
government  by  which  a  free  people  have  had  the  virtue  and 
the  sense  to  restrain  themselves,  —  these  devices  of  profound 
wisdom  arid  a  deep  study  of  man,  and  of  the  past,  by  which 
they  have  meant  to  secure  the  ascendency  of  the  just,  lofty, 
and  wise,  over  the  fraudulent,  low,  and  insane,  in  the  long- 
run  of  our  practical  politics,  —  these  temperaments  by  which 
justice  is  promoted,  and  by  which  liberty  is  made  possible 
and  may  be  made  immortal,  —  and  this  jus  publicum,  this 
great  written  code  of  public  law,  —  are  they  not  a  part,  in 
the  strictest  and  narrowest  sense,  of  the  appropriate  science  of 
your  profession  ?  More  than  for  any  other  class  or  calling  in 
the  community,  is  it  not  for  you  to  study  their  sense,  compre 
hend  their  great  uses,  and  explore  their  historical  origin  and 
illustrations,  —  to  so  hold  them  up  as  shields,  that  no  act  of 
legislature,  no  judgment  of  court,  no  executive  proclamation, 
no  order  of  any  functionary  of  any  description,  shall  transcend 
or  misconceive  them  —  to  so  hold  them  up  before  your  clients 
and  the  public,  as  to  keep  them  at  all  times  living,  intelligible, 
and  appreciated  in  the  universal  mind  ?  " 

Then  on  the  very  nature  of  law  he  utters  some  words 
which  it  were  well  that  all  law-makers  and 'all  citizens 
should  carefully  ponder. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  distemperatures  to  which  an  unreasoning 
liberty  may  grow,  no  doubt,  to  regard  law  as  no  more  iior  less 


158  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

than  just  the  will  —  the  actual  and  present  will  —  of  the  ac 
tual  majority  of  the  nation.  The  majority  govern.  What 
the  majority  pleases,  it  may  ordain.  What  it  ordains  is  law. 
So  much  for  the  source  of  law,  and  so  much  for  the  nature  of 
law.  But,  then,  as  law  is  nothing  but  the  will  of  a  major 
number,  as  that  will  differs  from  the  will  of  yesterday,  and 
will  differ  from  that  of  to-morrow,  and  as  all  law  is  a  restraint 
on  natural  right  and  personal  independence,  how  can  it  gain 
a  moment's  hold  on  the  reverential  sentiments  of  the  heart, 
and  the  profounder  convictions  of  the  judgment?  How  can 
it  impress  a  filial  awe ;  how  can  it  conciliate  a  filial  love  ; 
how  can  it  sustain  a  sentiment  of  veneration  ;  how  can  it 
command  a  rational  and  animated  defence  ?  Such  sentiments 
are  not  the  stuff  from  which  the  immortality  of  a  nation  is  to 
be  woven  !  Oppose  now  to  this  the  loftier  philosophy  which 
we  have  learned.  In  the  language  of  our  system,  the  law  is 
not  the  transient  and  arbitrary  creation  of  the  major  will,  nor 
of  any  will.  It  is  not  the  offspring  of  will  at  all.  It  is  the 
absolute  justice  of  the  State,  enlightened  by  the  perfect  reason 
of  the  State.  That  is  law,  —  enlightened  justice  assisting  the 
social  nature  to  perfect  itself  by  the  social  life.  It  is  ordained, 
doubtless,  that  is,  it  is  chosen,  and  is  ascertained  by  the  wis 
dom  of  man.  But,  then,  it  is  the  master-work  of  man.  Qua 
est  enim  istorum  oratlo  tarn  exquisita,  quce  sit  anteponenda 
bene  constitute  civitati  publicojure,  et  moribus  ?1 

"  By  the  costly  and  elaborate  contrivances  of  our  constitutions 
we  have  sought  to  attain  the  transcendent  result  of  extracting 
and  excluding  haste,  injustice,  revenge,  and  folly  from  the 
place  and  function  of  giving  the  law,  and  of  introducing  alone 
the  reason  and  justice  of  the  wisest  and  the  best.  By  the  aid 
of  time,  - —  time  which  changes  and  tries  all  things ;  tries 
them,  and  works  them  pure,  —  we  subject  the  law,  after  it  is 
given,  to  the  tests  of  old  experience,  to  the  reason  and  justice 
of  successive  ages  and  generations,  to  the  best  thoughts  of  the 
wisest  and  safest  of  reformers.  And  then  and  thus  we  pro 
nounce  it  good.  Then  and  thus  we  cannot  choose  but  rever 
ence,  obey,  and  enforce  it.  We  would  grave  it  deep  into  the 
heart  of  the  undying  State.  We  would  strengthen  it  by  opin 
ion,  by  manners,  by  private  virtue,  by  habit,  by  the  awful  hoar 
of  innumerable  ages.  All  that  attracts  us  to  life,  all  that  is 
charming  in  the  perfected  and  adorned  social  nature,  we  wise- 

1  Cicero  de  Republics,  I.  2. 


1845-1849.]          RHODE  ISLAND   BOUNDARY.  159 

ly  think  or  we  wisely  dream,  we  owe  to  the  all-encircling 
presence  of  the  law.  Not  even  extravagant  do  we  think  it  to 
hold,  that  the  Divine  approval  may  sanction  it  as  not  unworthy 
of  the  reason  which  we  derive  from  His  own  nature.  Not 
extravagant  do  we  hold  it  to  say,  that  there  is  thus  a  voice  of 
the  people  which  is  the  voice  of  God." 

In  January,  1846,  he  argued  before  the  Supreme 
Court  at  Washington  the  case  of  the  boundary  be 
tween  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island.  The  latter 
State  was  the  complainant,  and  Massachusetts  had 
made  an  answer.  Evidence  also  had  been  taken  by 
the  parties,  so  that  the  case  was  heard  upon  both  an 
swer  aiid  evidence.  The  words  of  the  Massachusetts 
charter  denned  the  part  of  the  boundary  in  question 
as  "  lying  within  the  space  of  three  English  miles  on 
the  south  part  of  Charles  River,  or  of  any  or  of  every 
part  thereof ; "  and  the  State  of  Rhode  Island  insisted 
that  these  words  had  been  misconstrued  and  misapplied 
in  former  adjustments  and  agreements  about  the  line, 
and  particularly  that  mistakes  had  been  made  as  to 
the  location  of  some  of  the  ancient  stations.  The  case 
disclosed  various  acts  and  proceedings  between  the  re 
spective  governments,  from  the  very  earliest  times,  and 
thus  opened  a  wide  field  of  inquiry  and  discussion. 
"  The  case,"  says  a  correspondent,  "  was  argued  by 
Randolph  and  Whipple  for  Rhode  Island,  and  Choate 
and  Webster  for  Massachusetts.  Mr.  Randolph  occu 
pied  three  days  in  referring  to  and  reading  ancient 
grants  and  documents.  Mr.  Choate  confined  himself 
to  that  branch  of  the  argument  resulting  from  the  two 
following  points:  1.  The  true  interpretation  of  the 
charter.  2.  The  acts  of  1713,  1718,  &c.,  being  acts  of 
the  State  of  Rhode  Island  of  a  most  decisive  character. 
But  these  points  went  to  the  very  marrow  of  the  case ; 


160  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

and  as  illustrated,  expanded,  and  enforced  by  Mr. 
Clioate,  with  his  remarkable  diction,  with  his  clear  and 
searching  analysis  and  his  subtle  logic,  went  far  ut 
terly  to  destroy  the  work  of  the  preceding  three  days. 
Every  one  who  heard  that  argument  must  have  felt 
that  there  was  something  new  under  the  sun ;  and 
that  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Clioate  had  never  been  heard 
in  that  court  before."  The  argument  made  a  strong 
impression  upon  the  judges.  Judge  Catron,  it  was 
said,  was  so  much  struck  and  charmed  by  it  that  it 
became  a  standing  inquiry  with  him  at  the  future 
sessions  of  the  court,  whether  Clioate  was  not  coming 
on  to  argue  some  question.  "  I  have  heard  the  most 
eminent  advocates,"  he  said,  "  but  he  surpasses  them 
all."  It  especially  surprised  him,  as  it  did  others,  that 
the  soil  and  climate  of  New  England — sterile  and 
harsh  —  should  give  birth  to  eloquence  so  fervid,  beau 
tiful,  and  convincing.  Of  this  argument  there  remains 
no  report ;  nor  have  any  fragments  of  it  been  found 
among  Mr.  Choatc's  manuscripts. 

In  March,  1840,  Mr.  Clioate  made  his  celebrated  de 
fence  of  Albert  J.  Tirrell.  He  probably  never  made 
an  argument  at  the  bar  under  circumstances  appar 
ently  more  adverse,  nor  one  which,  from  the  nature  of 
one  part  of  the  defence,  and  from  his  unlooked-for 
success,  subjected  him  to  so  much  criticism.  He  took 
the  case  in  the  natural  way  of  business,  being  retained 
as  for  any  other  professional  service.  With  Tirrell 
himself  he  never  exchanged  a  word  till  the  day  of  the 
trial.1  The  case  was  heard  in  Boston,  before  Justices 

1  He  was  generally  averse  to  personal  contact  with  his  clients  in 
criminal  cases.  In  this  instance,  I  have  understood  that  after  the 
prisoner  was  in  the  dock,  he  walked  to  the  rail  and  said,  "  Well,  Sir, 


1845-1849.]  DEFENCE  OF  TIRRELL.  161 

Wilde,  Dewey,  and  Hubbard  —  venerable,  one  of  them 
for  age,  and  all  of  them  for  experience  and  weight  of 
character.  The  principal  facts  as  developed  at  the 
trial  were  the  following:  Between  four  and  five  o'clock 
on  Monday  morning,  October  27, 1845,  a  young  woman 
named  Maria  Bickford  was  found  dead  in  a  house  of 
bad  repute,  kept  by  one  Joel  Lawrence.  Albert  J. 
Tirrell,  a  person  of  respectable  family  and  connections, 
but  of  vicious  life,  and  already  under  indictment  for 
adultery,  was  known  to  have  been  with  her  on  the 
previous  afternoon  and  late  in  the  evening,  the  doors 
of  the  house  having  been  locked  for  the  night.  He 
had  long  been  a  paramour  of  hers,  and  for  her  com 
pany  had  forsaken  his  own  wife.  On  the  morning 
spoken  of,  several  inmates  of  the  house  were  early 
roused  by  a  cry  coming  apparently  from  the  room  oc 
cupied  by  these  persons,  followed  by  a  sound  as  of  a 
heavy  body  falling  on  the  floor.  Soon  afterwards  some 
one  was  heard  going  down  stairs,  making  an  indistinct 
noise  as  if  stifled  by  smoke  ;  and  almost  immediately 
those  in  the  house  were  alarmed  by  the  smell  and  ap 
pearance  of  fire.  After  the  fire  was  extinguished, 
which  was  done  by  the  help  of  a  fireman  and  a  neigh 
bor,  the  body  of  Mrs.  Bickford  was  found  on  the  floor 
of  the  room  she  had  occupied,  and  where  the  fire  prin 
cipally  was,  at  some  distance  from  the  bed,  her  throat 
cut  to  the  bone  from  ear  to  ear  ;  her  body  much  burnt ; 
a  considerable  pool  of  blood  upon  the  bed ;  a  bowl 
upon  a  wash-stand  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  with 

are  you  ready  to  make  a  strong  push  for  life  with  me  to-day  ?  "  The 
answer,  of  course,  was  in  the  affirmative.  "  Very  well/'  replied  Mr. 
C.,  "  we  will  make  it,"  and  turned  away  to  his  seat.  He  did  not 
speak  to  him  again. 

11 


162  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

water  in  it,  thick  with  blood  ;  marks  of  hlood  upon  the 
wash-stand,  and  the  lamp  on  the  mantel-piece  ;  the 
bed-clothes  piled  up  in  various  places  in  the  room  and 
in  the  entry,  and  partly  consumed  ;  a  bloody  razor 
near  the  body ;  also,  some  stockings,  a  cravat,  and  a 
cane,  belonging  to  Tirrell.  Besides  this,  a  fire  had 
been  kindled  in  an  adjoining  room  which  was  not  occu 
pied  that  night.  A  woman  in  the  next  house,  sepa 
rated  from  Lawrence's  by  a  brick  partition,  was  waked 
that  morning  by  a  screech  as  from  a  grown  child  ;  but 
on  listening  heard  the  voice  of  a  woman  ;  then  she 
heard  a  strangling  noise,  and  afterwards  a  fall,  and 
then  a  louder  noise. 

It  was  also  in  evidence  that  Tirrell  had  called  in 
haste,  very  early  on  that  Monday  morning,  at  a  livery- 
stable  near  Bowdoin  Square,  saying  that  "  he  had  got 
into  trouble ;  that  somebody  had  come  into  his  room 
and  tried  to  murder  him,"  and  he  wanted  a  vehicle 
and  driver  to  take  him  out  of  town.  These  were  fur 
nished,  and  he  was  driven  to  Weymouth.  He  also  had 
called  between  four  and  five  o'clock  at  the  house  of  one 
Head,  in  Alden  Court,  not  far  from  the  livery-stable, 
and  asked  for  some  clothes  which  he  had  left  there, 
saying  that  he  was  going  to  Weymouth.  The  officers 
who  went  in  search  of  him  on  the  same  day  did  not 
succeed  in  finding  him ;  but  some  months  afterwards 
he  was  arrested  in  New  Orleans,  and  brought  to  Bos 
ton  for  trial.  The  public  were  exasperated  by  the 
atrocity  of  the  deed,  were  generally  convinced  of  his 
guilt,  and  confident  that  he  would  be  convicted.  The 
crime  could  be  charged  upon  no  one  else ;  and  the 
evidence  connected  him  with  it  so  closely  that  there 
seemed  to  be  no  chance  of  escape. 


1845-1849.]  DEFENCE   OF  TIRRELL.  163 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  almost  universal  prejudgment, 
and  of  a  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  coiling  about 
the  prisoner  which  seemed  irrefragable,  his  counsel, 
by  throwing  doubt  upon  the  testimony  of  the  govern 
ment,  as  derived  in  part  from  witnesses  of  infamous 
character,  by  subtly  analyzing  what  was  indisputable, 
and  demonstrating  its  consistency  with  a  theory  of  in 
nocence,  by  a  skilful  combination  of  evidence  showing 
the  possibility  of  suicide,  or  of  murder  by  some  other 
hand,  and  by  a  peculiar  line  of  defence  so  singular 
and  audacious  that  it  seemed  almost  to  paralyze  the 
prosecuting  officer,  were  able  to  convince  the  jury, 
and  I  believe  the  court  and  the  bar,  that  he  could 
not  be  legally  convicted.  It  appeared,  for  the  defence, 
that  Tirrell  was  subject  from  his  youth  to  what  was 
called  somnambulism ;  and  that  while  in  this  state  he 
made  strange  noises  —  a  sort  of  groan  or  screech  — 
loud  and  distressing ;  that  he  frequently  rose  and 
walked  in  his  sleep ;  sometimes  uttered  words  evi 
dently  prompted  by  dreams ;  and  that  once  he  pulled 
a  companion  with  whom  he  was  sleeping  out  of  bed, 
stood  over  him  and  cried  out,  "Start  that  leader! 
start  that  leader,  or  I'll  cut  his  throat !  "  and  then 
walked  to  the  door  as  if  for  a  knife  that  had  been 
placed  over  the  latch ;  that  on  the  morning  of  the 
asserted  murder,  when  he  went  to  Head's  house,  he 
appeared  so  strangely  as  to  frighten  those  who  saw 
him,  and  Head  took  hold  of  him  and  shook  him,  when 
he  seemed  to  wake  up  from  a  kind  of  stupor,  and  said, 
"  Sam.  how  came  I  here  ?  "  It  was  also  proved  that 
when  informed  at  Weymouth  that  he  was  charged  with 
having  committed  the  murder,  he  said  that  he  would 
go  to  Boston  and  deliver  himself  up,  but  was  dissuaded 


164  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

by  his  brother-in-law,  who  furnished  him  money  to  take 
him  to  Montreal.  It  was  further  proved  that  Mrs. 
Bickford,  though  beautiful  and  fascinating,  was  inclined 
to  intemperance,  was  passionate  and  wicked,  and  often 
threatened  to  take  her  own  life  ;  that  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  having  a  razor  with  her  for  the  purpose  of 
shaving  her  forehead  to  make  it  high  ;  and  once  had 
bought  a  dirk,  and  kept  it  concealed  in  her  room. 
Physicians  of  the  utmost  respectability  testified  that 
the  wound  in  the  neck  was  one  which  could  have 
been  inflicted  by  the  deceased  herself ;  that  extraordi 
nary  convulsive  movements  may  be  made  after  much 
of  the  blood  has  left  the  body,  while  still  some  remains 
in  the  head ;  that  from  the  nature  of  the  instrument, 
and  the  physical  ability  of  the  deceased,  the  death 
might  have  been  suicide  ;  that  the  prisoner  appeared 
evidently  to  be  a  somnambulist,  or  sleep-walker,  and 
that  in  this  somnambulic  state  a  person  can  dress  him 
self,  can  consistently  commit  a  homicide,  set  the  house 
on  fire,  and  run  out  into  the  street.  These  were  the 
strong  points  on  which  the  argument  of  Mr.  Choate 
was  based.  He  contended  that  no  motive  had  been 
shown  for  the  deed,  on  the  part  of  the  prisoner  ;  that 
the  evidence  did  not  contradict  the  idea  of  suicide  ; 
that  no  evidence  had  shown  that  a  third  party  had  not 
done  the  deed ;  and  that  if  committed  by  the  prisoner, 
it  must  have  been  done  while  in  the  somnambulic 
state.  There  is  no  record  of  this  extraordinary  argu 
ment.  An  imperfect  sketch  is  found  in  some  of  the 
newspapers  of  the  day,  evidently  not  exact  and  accu 
rate,  and  of  course  conveying  no  adequate  idea  of  the 
variety  of  power  brought  to  bear  on  the  analysis  of 
the  evidence  and  its  application,  in  overthrowing  the 
theory  of  the  government. 


1845-1849.]  DEFENCE   OF  TIRRELL.  165 

Mr.  Choate  often  said  that  he  meant  to  write  out 
the  argument,  the  materials  of  which  existed  ;  but  he 
never  carried  this  intention  into  effect,  and  a  diligent 
search  among  his  papers  has  failed  to  discover  any 
trace  of  his  brief.  But  in  the  imperfect  notices  to 
which  we  now  have  access,  we  see  evidence  not  only 
of  the  solemn  and  earnest  manner  which  the  case 
mainly  required,  and  which  he  could  render  so  impres 
sive,  but  also  of  that  occasional  playful  extravagance 
and  witty  allusion  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
relieve  the  anxious  attention  of  the  jury.  Speaking  of 
a  witness  for  the  government,  called  out  of  place,  and 
after  the  defence  was  in,  he  said  :  "  Where  was  this 
tardy  and  belated  witness  that  he  comes  here  to  tell  us 
all  he  knows,  and  all  he  doesn't  know,  forty-eight 
hours  after  the  evidence  for  the  defence  is  closed  ?  Is 
the  case  so  obscure  that  he  had  never  heard  of  it  ? 
Was  he  ill,  or  in  custody  ?  Was  he  in  Europe,  Asia,  or 
Africa  ?  Was  he  on  the  Red  Sea,  or  the  Yellow  Sea,  or 
the  Black  Sea,  or  the  Mediterranean  Sea  ?  Was  he  at 
Land's  End,  or  John  0' Groat's  house  ?  Was  he  .with 
Commissioners  on  our  north-eastern  boundary  drawing 
and  denning  that  much  vexed  boundary  line  ?  Or  was 
he  with  General  Tay  or  and  his  army  at  Chihuahua,  or 
wherever  the  fleeting  south-western  boundary  line  of  our 
country  may  at  this  present  moment  be  ?  No,  gentle 
men,  he  was  at  none  of  these  places  (comparatively 
easy  of  access) ,  but  —  and  I  would  call  your  attention, 
Mr.  Foreman,  to  the  fact,  and  urge  it  upon  your  con? 
sideration,  —  he  was  at  that  more  remote,  more  inac 
cessible  region,  whence  so  few  travellers  return  — 
Roxbury." 

In  showing  a  possibility  that  the  crime  could  have 


166  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

been  committed  by  a  third  person,  lie  denounced  with 
great  severity  and  sarcasm  the  reckless  and  depraved 
character  of  most  of  the  persons  who  appeared  as  wit 
nesses,  and  the  infamous  nature  of  the  house  u  not  al 
ways  so  very  hermetically  sealed."  In  accounting  for 
the  position  in  which  the  body  was  found,  he  asserted, 
what  the  apparent  diversity  of  testimony  seemed  to 
bear  out,  that  all  the  particulars  and  horrors  in  that 
room  on  the  morning  of  the  homicide,  had  not  been 
divulged,  and  that  Lawrence  himself  might  have 
snatched  the  body  from  the  burning  bed.  So  by  sug 
gestion  after  suggestion  he  threw  suspicion  over  the 
theories  of  the  government  or  diminished  the  credi 
bility  of  its  witnesses.  In  the  argument  for  somnam 
bulism,  he  produced  a  great  impression  by  a  quotation. 
"  I  beg  leave  of  the  court  to  read,  as  illustrative  of  my 
point  of  argument  here,  a  passage  from  a  good  old 
book,  which  used  to  lie  on  the  shelves  of  our  good  old 
fathers  and  mothers,  and  which  they  were  wont  de 
voutly  to  read.  This  old  book  is  4  Hervey's  Medita 
tions,'  and  I  have  borrowed  it  from  my  mother  to  read 
on  this  occasion.  '  Another  signal  instance  of  a  Provi 
dence  intent  upon  our  welfare  '  (says  that  writer)  '  is, 
that  we  are  preserved  safe  in  the  hours  of  slumber. 
...  At  these  moments  we  lie  open  to  innumerable 
perils :  perils  from  the  resistless  rage  of  flames  ;  perils 
from  the  insidious  artifices  of  thieves,  or  the  outrageous 
violence  of  robbers  ;  perils  from  the  irregular  workings 
of  our  own  thoughts,  and  especially  from  the  incursions 
of  our  spiritual  enemy.  .  .  .  Will  the  candid  reader 
excuse  me,  if  I  add  a  short  story,  or  rather  a  matter  of 
fact,  suitable  to  the  preceding  remark  ?  Two  persons 
who  had  been  hunting  together  in  the  day  slept  to- 


1845-1849.]  DEFENCE   OF  TIRRELL.  167 

gether  the  following  night ;  one  of  them  was  renewing 
his  pursuit  in  his  dream,  and  having  run  the  whole 
circle  of  the  chase,  came  at  last  to  the  fall  of  the  stag. 
Upon  this  he  cries  out  with  determined  ardor,  "  I'll 
kill  him,  Til  kill  him,"  and  immediately  feels  for  the 
knife  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket.  His  companion 
happening  to  be  awake,  and  observing  what  passed, 
leaped  from  the  bed.  Being  secure  from  danger,  and 
the  moon  shining  bright  into  the  room,  he  stood  to 
view  the  event,  when,  to  his  inexpressible  surprise,  the 
infatuated  sportsman  gave  several  deadly  stabs  in  the 
very  place  where,  a  moment  before,  the  throat  and 
the  life  of  his  friend  lay.  This  I  mention  as  a  proof, 
that  nothing  hinders  us,  even  from  being  assassins  of 
others  or  murderers  of  ourselves,  amid  the  mad  follies 
of  sleep,  only  the  preventing  care  of  our  Heavenly 
Father.  ...  Oh !  the  unwearied  and  condescending 
goodness  of  our  Creator !  who  lulls  us  to  our  rest,  by 
bringing  on  the  silent  shades,  and  plants  his  own  ever- 
watchful  eye  as  our  sentinel,  while  we  enjoy  the  need 
ful  repose.' ' 

In  his  exordium,  alluding  to  the  certainty  that  death 
would  follow  a  verdict  of  guilty,  he  said,  u  Every  juror, 
when  he  puts  into  the  urn  the  verdict  of  '  guilty/ 
writes  upon  it  also,  4  Let  him  die.'  '  In  the  solemn 
and  beautiful  peroration,  he,  as  it  were,  summed  up 
his  appeal  in  these  words  :  "  Under  the  iron  law  of 
old  Rome,  it  was  the  custom  to  bestow  a  civic  wreath 
on  him  who  should  save  the  life  of  a  citizen.  Do  your 
duty  this  day,  gentlemen,  and  you  too  may  deserve  the 
civic  crown." 

The  verdict  of  the  jury,  after  a  deliberation  of  less 
than  two  hours,  was  "  Not  guilty,"  a  verdict  which 


168  MEMOIR    OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

has  been  generally  acquiesced  in  by  the  legal  profes 
sion  as  the  only  one  which  the  evidence  would  war 
rant,  though  at  the  commencement  of  the  trial  few 
could  have  supposed  it  possible.  Mr.  Choate  suffered 
somewhat  in  the  general  estimation  from  the  argument 
drawn  from  somnambulism.  That,  however,  was  a 
suggestion  of  the  friends  of  the  accused,  accepted  by 
the  counsel,  and  employed  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
like  any  other  capital  fact.  The  foreman  of  the  jury 
stated  that  the  question  of  somnambulism  did  not  enter 
into  the  consideration  of  the  jury,  and  had  not  the 
public  been  disappointed  and  almost  shocked  by  the 
result  of  the  trial,  we  should  probably  have  heard  less 
criticism  of  the  methods  of  the  advocate. 

As  this  case  must  take  rank  among  the  most  cele 
brated  in  our  country,  for  the  audacity  of  the  crime, 
for  the  pervading  anxiety  that  the  criminal  should  not 
escape,  as  well  as  for  the  power,  brilliancy,  and  unex 
pected  success  of  the  defence,  it  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  no  good  report  of  it  was  ever  made.  No  descrip 
tion,  or  statement  of  legal  points,  can  enable  one  to  re 
produce  the  scenes,  or  feel  the  power  by  which  the  jury 
were  brought  so  soon  to  their  verdict  of  deliverance. 

Although  acquitted  on  the  charge  of  murder,  Tirrell 
was  still  under  an  indictment  for  arson.  On  this 
charge  he  was  tried  before  Judges  Shaw,  Wilde,  and 
Dewey  in  January,  1847.  This  trial,  though  of  less 
celebrity  than  the  first,  was  hardly  less  important  or 
difficult.  Nor  was  the  ability  of  the  defence  less  con 
spicuous.  Every  one  noticed  the  hopeful  and  confident 
tone  with  which  Mr.  Choate  opened  his  argument. 
He  moved  as  if  sure  of  success.  Having  thus,  as  by  a 
magnetic  influence,  removed  the  pressure  of  doubt  and 


1845-1849.]  DEFENCE  OF  TIRRELL.  169 

apprehension,  he  proceeded  to  review  the  evidence, 
which  was  nearly  the  same  as  in  the  former  trial,  with 
the  addition  of  one  witness,  who  swore  that  she  was  in 
Lawrence's  house  that  night  and  saw  Tirrell  going  out 
between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  This 
new  testimony,  so  important  if  true,  damaged  the  case 
for  the  government  by  throwing  doubt  upon  the  credi 
bility  of  the  other  witnesses,  Lawrence  having  before 
sworn  that  no  one  was  in  his  house  that  night  but  those 
who  appeared  on  the  stand.  Mr.  Choate  argued  that 
there  was  no  proof  of  arson  at  all ;  no  proof  of  an  in 
tent  to  set  the  fire  ;  it  might  have  been  done  by  Law 
rence  himself  by  accident ;  if  done  by  Tirrell  at  all,  it 
might  have  been  done  in  a  somnambulic  state.  He 
had  no  motive  for  the  crime.  "He  was  fascinated  by 
the  wiles  of  the  unhappy  female  whose  death  was  so 
awful ;  he  loved  "her  with  the  love  of  forty  thousand 
brothers,  though  alas  !  it  was  not  as  pure  as  it  was  pas 
sionate."  He  argued  again  that  Mrs.  Bickford  might 
have  died  by  her  own  hand.  "  If  the  jury,"  he  said, 
"  are  governed  by  the  clamor  raised  by  a  few  without 
the  court-house,  I  must  look  upon  the  prisoner  as  in 
the  position  of  one  of  those  unfortunates  on  board  the 
ill-fated  '  Atlantic.'  He  was  tossed  upon  the  waters  — 
struck  out  boldly  and  strongly  in  the  wintry  surge, 
was  washed  within  reach  of  the  ragged  beach,  and,  with 
one  hand  upon  the  crag,  was  offering  up  thanksgiving 
for  his  safety,  when  the  waves  overtook  him  and  he 
was  swept  back  to  death." 

"  There  is  a  day,  gentlemen,"  he  said  in  conclusion, 
"  when  all  these  things  will  be  known.  When  the 
great  day  has  arrived  and  the  books  are  opened,  it  will 
then  be  known.  But,  gentlemen,  let  not  your  decision 


170  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

be  then  declared  in  the  face  of  the  world,  to  be  a  judi 
cial  murder." 

The  charge  to  the  jury  by  Chief  Justice  Shaw,  dis 
crediting  the  government  witnesses  on  account  of  dis 
reputable  characters  and  discrepancy  of  testimony,  was 
favorable  to  the  prisoner,  who  was  again  acquitted.  It 
was  wittily  said  afterwards  that  "  Tirrell  existed  only 
by  the  sufferance  of  Choate."1 

In  July,  1847,  Mr.  Choate  argued,  at  Northampton, 
the  Oliver  Smith's  will  case.  Mr.  Smith  died  a  bach 
elor  at  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  leaving  an  estate 
which  was  inventoried  at  $370,000.  This  he  disposed 
of  by  a  will  creating  a  variety  of  charities  which  many 
people  regarded  as  unwise  and  useless.  He  had  a 
number  of  relations  who  had  expected  generous  lega 
cies.  Some  of  them  were  needy ;  to  others  he  was 
under  obligations  of  kindness,  and  all  of  them  felt  that 
it  was  right  to  defeat  the  will,  if  it  could  legally  be 
done.  There  was  but  one  point  at  which  an  attack 
seemed  to  offer  any  chance  of  success.  One  of  the 
witnesses  to  the  will  had  lived  so  secluded  from  society, 
and  had  conducted  himself  so  singularly,  that  he  was 
reputed  to  be  insane.  If  it  could  be  shown  that  he 
was  insane  at  the  time  the  will  was  made,  he  would  of 
course  be  incompetent  and  the  will  would  fail.  But 
the  fact  that  he  avoided  intercourse  with  everybody  not 
belonging  to  his  own  family,  made  it  difficult  to  obtain 
evidence.  The  heirs-at-law  determined,  however,  to 
appeal  from  the  decree  of  the  Probate  Court  which  ap- 

1  A  short  time  after  the  conclusion  of  his  second  trial,  Tirrell  called 
upon  Mr.  Choate  and  suggested  that  half  of  the  fee  should  be  re 
turned,  stating  that  as  his  innocence  of  the  crimes  charged  was  so 
obvious  to  two  juries,  his  counsel  had  been  paid  too  much  for  their 
conduct  of  such  simple  causes.  The  fee  paid  was,  it  is  believed,  §200. 


1845-1849.]  THE   SMITH  WILL  CASE.  171 

proved  the  will,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  not  attested 
by  three  competent  witnesses.  For  the  heirs  appeared 
Mr.  Choate,  R.  A.  Chapman,  and  C.  P.  Huntington. 
For  the  executors,  Daniel  Webster,  C.  E.  Forbes,  and 
Osmyn  Baker.  The  court-room  was  crowded  as  dense 
ly  as  men  and  women  could  sit  and  stand.  The  evi 
dence  was  decisive  that  a  year  before  the  will  was 
made,  the  witness  was  regarded  by  the  Superintendent 
of  the  State  Asylum  as  insane,  but  at  the  period  in 
question,  the  evidence,  though  conflicting,  was  in  his 
favor.  He  himself  was  put  upon  the  stand,  and,  sus 
tained  by  the  presence  of  his  powerful  counsel,  gained 
much  by  his  appearance.  There  is  no  report  of  the 
arguments  on  this  interesting  trial,  but  I  am  able  to 
give  the  impression  made  upon  the  mind  of  an  able 
lawyer  who  was  present  and  indirectly  opposed  to  Mr. 
Choate.1 

"  Though  I  took  no  active  part  in  the  trial  of  the 
6  Smith  Will  Case,'  I  was  engaged  somewhat  in  the 
antecedent  preparation,  and  thus  brought  nearer  than 
I  otherwise  might  have  been,  to  the  great  leaders  on 
that  occasion.  ...  I  had  never  till  then  seen  or  heard 
Mr.  Choate,  when  opposed  to  Mr.  Webster  before 
the  jury.  It  was  a  case,  moreover,  where,  at  the  start, 
he  must  have  felt  how  desperately  the  odds  were 
against  him  on  the  merits,  and  how  necessary  it  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  thronged  court-house  of  new  hearers, 
and  of  such  an  antagonist,  that  his  genius  should  not 
falter  ;  and  surely  his  exhaustless  resource  never  re 
sponded  more  prodigally  to  his  call.  He  spoke  for 
three  hours,  as,  it  seems  to  me,  never  man  spake. 
Mr.  Webster,  on  the  contrary,  after  a  certain  critical 

1  Hon.  Charles  Delano. 


172  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  VI. 

point  in  the  production  of  the  evidence  was  passed,  felt 
that  he  had  an  easy  case  and  a  sure  victory.  I  thought 
there  was  on  his  part  rather  an  affectation  of  serenity 
—  of  deliberateness  and  even  homeliness  of  address  — 
an  effort  at  self-suppression,  perhaps,  as  if  studying 
more  to  divert  the  jury  by  the  contrasted  manner  of 
the  men  before  them,  than  to  rival  his  adversary  in 
any  of  the  subtle  or  fascinating  arts  of  oratory.  There 
were  in  fact  only  two  or  three  passages  in  Mr.  Web 
ster's  speech  where  he  seemed  to  startle  the  bewildered 
twelve  by  a  power  at  all  proportioned  to  his  fame. 
And  if  the  verdict  had  been  taken  before  the  charge, 
the  result  would  have  been  doubtful.  But  the  dry  and 
utterly  passionless  analysis  of  the  evidence  by  old 
Judge  Wilde  made  the  jury  soon  to  see  how  narrowly 
they  had  escaped  finding  an  impulsive,  if  not  a  foolish 
verdict.  I  speak  of  course  with  the  biases  of  a  retainer 
against  Mr.  Choate's  side. 

"You  will  observe  that  the  single  issue  on  the  trial 
was,  whether  the  third  witness  to  the  will  was,  or  was 
not,  of  sufficient  mental  soundness  at  the  time  of  attes 
tation.  This  witness  was  a  young  man  just  out  of  col 
lege,  —  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  intelligence,  educa 
tion,  and  of  the  highest  respectability,  but  a  noted 
hypochondriac,  and  the  grandson  of  that  chief  of  hypo 
chondriacs,  not  less  than  of  justices,  Theophilus  Par 
sons,  of  the  Massachusetts  Bench. 

"  Mr.  Choate  converted  these  incidents  into  one  of 
his  finest  episodes.  He  gave  us  the  Chief  Justice  in 
his  most  exalted  intellectual  frame  ;  but  then  how  in 
geniously  did  he  darken  the  canvas  with  all  the  horrors 
of  that  great  man's  morbid  delusions !  Surely  the 
jury  were  not  to  believe  that  a  malady  thus  foreshad 
owed,  when  added  to  and  aggravated  by  the  channel  of 


1845-1849.]  THE  SMITH  WILL   CASE.  178 

transmission,  could  issue  in  any  thing  less  than  neces 
sary  and  utter  mental  overthrow  !  His  theory  might 
have  gained  assent,  had  it  not  been  that  the  question 
able  witness  was  himself  in  court.  His  whole  de 
meanor  and  expression,  however,  were  those  of  a  man 
absorbed  in  melancholy  ;  and  I  think  Mr.  Choate's  side 
had,  from  the  outset,  staked  their  expectations  upon 
the  miscarriage  of  this  witness  on  the  stand.  In  the 
first  place,  would  the  party  setting  up  the  will  dare  to 
call  him  ?  If  not,  it  would  be  a  confession  of  at  least 
present  incompetency.  If  they  should,  how  probable 
that  so  consummate  a  cross-examiner  would  easily 
reach  the  clew  to  his  distractions,  and  thus  topple  him 
from  any  momentary  self-possession.  It  was  in  taking 
this  timid  and  reluctant  witness  into  his  own  hands, 
and  bringing  him  to  feel  that  he  was  testifying  under 
the  shelter  of  the  great  '  Defender '  himself,  that  Mr 
Webster  figured  more  conspicuously  than  in  any  other 
part  of  the  case.  Thus  borne  up  and  through  a  long 
direct  examination,  he  braved  the  cross-examination 
witli  perfect  composure.  This  was  the  critical  point  of 
the  case  to  which  I  have  before  alluded.  I  know  I  am 
spinning  out  this  note  to  a  merciless  length,  but  my 
apology  is,  that  reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate  are  among 
the  most  delightful  memories  of  the  lawyer.  Few  who 
have  ever  known  him  can  dwell  tipon  his  death  other 
wise  than  as  upon  a  personal  and  domestic  affliction ; 
and  I  count  it  among  the  chief  felicities  of  my  life,  not 
merely  to  have  heard  him  at  the  Bar,  but  to  have  seen 
him  in  his  office,  had  a  glimpse  of  him  at  home  among 
his  books,  and  listened  to  him  at  his  fireside." 

Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Choate  were  often  very  play 
ful  towards  each  other  during  this  trial,  as  they  usually 


174  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

were  when  engaged  together  in  the  same  case.  "  My 
position,"  said  one  of  the  junior  counsel,1  "  happened 
to  be  between  them ;  and  as  it  was  the  first  time  I  had 
ever  seen  them  opposed  to  each  other,  I  was  not  a 
careless  observer  of  either.  Mr.  Choate  seemed  to 
know  Mr.  Webster's  ways  thoroughly  ;  and  I  was 
sometimes  amused  by  the  shrewd  cautions  he  gave 
me.  Mr.  Webster  laughed  at  him  about  his  hand 
writing,  telling  him  his  notes  were  imitations  of  the 
antediluvian  bird-tracks.  While  he  was  making  his 
argument,  Mr.  Webster  repeatedly  called  my  attention 
in  a  whisper  to  his  striking  passages.  He  once  asked 
me  in  respect  to  one  of  them,  '  How  do  you  suppose 
I  can  answer  that  ? '  And  once  when  he  used  the 
word  '  abnormal,'  Mr.  Webster  said,  '  Didn't  I  tell 
you  he  would  use  the  word  "  abnormal "  before  he 
got  through  ?  He  got  it  in  college,  and  it  came  from 
old  President  Wheelock.'  .  .  .  After  the  trial  was  over, 
Mr.  Webster  spoke  very  freely  of  Mr.  Choate,  in  a 
private  conversation  at  our  hotel,  and  expressed  the 
highest  admiration  of  him.  He  said  he  often  listened 
to  him  with  wonder;  and  that  when  he  argued  cases 
at  Washington,  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  ex 
pressed  their  amazement  at  the  brilliancy  and  power 
of  his  oratory,  even  in  the  discussion  of  dry  legal 
points.  He  said  they  had  often  mentioned  it  to 
him." 

It  was  understood  that  in  this  case  the  jury  stood  at 
first,  ten  for  the  will,  and  two  against  it ;  on  the  third 
ballot  they  agreed. 

In  the  political  campaign  of  1848,  which  resulted  in 
the  election  of  Gen.  Taylor,  Mr.  Choate  took  a  promi- 

1  Hon.  Reuben  A.  Chapman,  now  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts. 


1845-1849.]  SPEECH  AT  BROOKLINE.  175 

nent  and  willing  part.  In  the  character  and  life  of 
Gen.  Taylor,  his  modesty  and  integrity,  his  capacity  in 
extraordinary  emergencies,  his  courage,  his  unobtru 
sive  patriotism,  and  his  brilliant  victories,  there  was 
much  to  awaken  enthusiasm  as  well  as  to  command 
respect.  The  speeches  of  Mr.  Choate  before  the  elec 
tion  are  among  the  most  effective  he  ever  made  in  this 
style  of  ephemeral  political  oratory.  With  a  sound 
substratum  of  judicious  thought  and  argument,  they 
fairly  effervesce  with  wit  and  raillery. 

One  of  these  was  made  at  Brookline.  "  He  had 
been  a  week,"  writes  a  gentleman  who  went  with  him 
to  the  place,  "preparing  his  oration,  and  was  well- 
nigh  used  up.  He  got  into  the  coach,  his  locks  drip 
ping  with  dissolved  camphor,  and  complained  of  a 
raging  headache.  He  clutched  his  temple  with  his 
hand,  and  leaned  his  head  on  my  shoulder,  to  see  if 
he  could  not,  by  reclining,  find  ease.  Just  as  we 
touched  the  Mill  Dam,  the  evening  moon  poured  her 
level  rays  over  the  beautiful  waters  of  the  Back  Bay, 
and  filled  the  coach  and  atmosphere  with  dreamy  light. 
The  scene  instantly  revived  him.  He  put  his  head  out 
of  the  coach  window,  and  was  absorbed  with  the  sweet 
ness  of  the  view.  The  sight  of  the  still  waters,  moon 
lighted,  seemed  to  drive  away  his  pain,  and  he  struck 
into  his  old  rapture.  In  the  hall  where  he  spoke,  he 
was  in  his  very  best  mood  ;  both  mind  and  body  seem 
ing  to  be  on  wings.  ...  As  we  rode  home  in  the 
soft  moonlight,  he  amazed  me  with  his  vast  power  of 
thought.  I  have  seen  men  stirred  with  passion  ;  men 
eloquent ;  men  profound  and  brilliant  in  conversation  ; 
but  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life  I  never  saw  a  man 
more  roused  than  was  he.  He  poured  out,  without 


176  MEMOIR   OF  KUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VI. 

stopping,  a  torrent  of  conversation  upon  history,  con 
stitutional  law,  philosophy,  poetry  ;  upon  Burke,  Plato, 
Hamilton,  the  future  of  the  Union.  No  other  word 
would  explain  his  style  but  '  torrent '  or  *  cataract ; ' 
for  what  he  spoke  in  that  hour  would  have  made  a 
small  volume,  —  brilliant  and  full  of  philosophy  and 
learning.  And  I  think  that  I  never  realized  so  much 
as  then  the  power  and  unapproachableness  of  genius  ; 
and  yet  the  man  —  though  so  burning  up  and  absorbed 
with  his  subjects  of  conversation  —  was  true  to  his 
gentle  instincts.  His  daughter  lay  ill  at  home ;  and 
in  Summer  Street,  at  a  long  distance  from  his  house  in 
Winthrop  Place,  he  bade  the  coachman  stop  to  allow 
him  to  walk  to  his  door,  so  that  the  noise  of  the  car 
riage  might  not  disturb  her ;  insisting,  at  the  same 
time,  against  my  request  to  the  contrary,  that  the 
coach  should  carry  me  home,  though  I  lived  in  a  dif 
ferent  part  of  the  city." 

Besides  this,  he  addressed  a  mass  meeting  at  Wor 
cester,  and  spoke  twice  at  Salem,  —  the  second  time 
on  the  presentation  of  a  banner  bearing  on  one  side 
the  inscription,  "  Presented  to  the  Taylor  Club  by  the 
Ladies  of  Salem,  Oct.  17,  1848,"  and  on  the  other, 
a  representation  of  Gen.  Taylor  giving  relief  to  a 
wounded  Mexican,  with  the  words  "  HONOR  —  PATRIOT 
ISM —  HUMANITY."  The  assembly  was  brilliant  even 
for  that  city,  and  greeted  him  with  the  fervor  of  friends. 
The  applause  subsiding,  he  addressed  the  chairman  of 
the  Club  in  words  of  beauty  which  foreshadow  what 
became  afterwards  the  very  heart  of  his  political 
life. 

"  It  has  been  supposed,  Sir,  by  that  better  portion 
of  this  community,  the  ladies  oi  Salem,  that  it  would 


1845-1849.]  TAYLOR  CLUB  OF  SALEM.  177 

not  be  uupleasing  to  the  association  of  Whigs,  over 
which  you  preside,  to  pause  for  an  hour  from  the 
austerer  duties  of  the  time,  and  to  be  recreated  by 
receiving  at  their  hands  an  expression  of  that  kind  of 
sympathy  which  man  needs  most,  and  a  tender  of  that 
kind  of  aid  which  helps  him  farthest,  longest,  and 
most  gratefully,  —  the  sympathy  and  approval  of  our 
mothers,  wives,  sisters,  daughters,  and  those,  all,  whom 
most  we  love.  Under  that  impression  they  have  pre 
pared  this  banner,  and  have  requested  me  to  present 
'it,  as  from  them,  to  you.  With  a  request  so  grateful, 
from  its  nature  and  source,  I  am  but  too  happy  to 
comply.  .  .  . 

"  I  give  you,  from  the  ladies  of  this  Salem,  —  the 
holy  and  beautiful  city  of  peace,  —  a  banner  of  peace  ! 
Peace  has  her  victories,  however,  as  well  as  war.  I 
give  you,  then,  I  hope  and  believe,  the  banner  of  a  vic 
tory  of  peace.  The  work  of  hands,  some  of  which 
you  doubtless  have  given  away  in  marriage  at  the  altar, 
—  the  work  of  hands,  for  which  many  altars  might 
contend  !  some  of  which  have  woven  the  more  immor 
tal  web  of  thought  and  recorded  speech,  making  the 
mind  of  Salem  as  renowned  as  its  beauty,  —  the  work 
of  such  hands,  embodying  their  general  and  warm  ap 
preciation  of  your  exertions,  and  their  joy  in  your 
prospects  ;  conveying  at  once  the  assurance  of  triumph 
and  the  consolations  of  possible  defeat ;  —  expressive 
above  all  of  their  pure  and  considered  moral  judg 
ments  on  the  great  cause  and  the  Good  Man  !  —  the 
moral  judgments  of  these,  whose  frown  can  disappoint 
the  proudest  aim,  whose  approbation  prosper  not  less 
than  ours ;  —  the  work  of  such  hands,  the  gift  of  such 
hearts,  the  record  of  such  moral  sentiments,  the  sym- 

12 


178  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VI. 

bol  of  so  many  sensibilities  and  so  many  hopes,  you 
will  prize  it  more  than  if  woven  of  the  tints  of  a  sum 
mer  evening  sunset,  inscribed  and  brought  down  to 
earth  by  viewless  artists  of  the  skies. 

"  Prizing  it  on  all  reasons,  I  think  you  are  too  much 
a  Whig  not  to  derive,  in  receiving  it,  a  peculiar 
pleasure  from  this  consideration,  that  it  expresses  the 
judgments  of  this  portion  of  the  community  on  the 
personal  qualities  and  character  of  Gen.  Taylor.  It 
expresses  their  judgments  in  favor  of  those  qualities 
and  that  character.  It  assures  us  that  we  are  not  mis 
taken  in  the  man  himself.  It  assures  us  that  we  are 
right  in  believing  him  just,  incorrupt,  humane  ;  of 
large  heart,  as  well  as  clear  head,  —  whose  patriotism 
knows  neither  Alleghanies  nor  Mississippi,  nor  Rocky 
Mountains,  embracing  our  whole  America,  —  from 
whom  twenty  thousand  Mexicans  could  not  wrest  the 
flag  of  his  country,  yet  whom  the  sight  of  a  single 
Mexican  soldier,  wounded  and  athirst  at  his  feet,  melts, 
in  a  moment,  to  the  kindness  of  a  woman. 

"  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  enter  on  any  delicate  or 
debatable  region  of  social  philosophy,  sure  I  am  that  I 
concede  away  nothing  which  I  ought  to  assert  for  our 
sex,  when  I  say  that  the  collective  womanhood  of  a 
people  like  our  own  seizes  with  matchless  facility  and 
certainty  on  the  moral  and  personal  peculiarities  and 
character  of  marked  and  conspicuous  men,  and  that 
we  may  very  wisely  address  ourselves  to  her  to  learn 
if  a  competitor  for  the  highest  honors  may  boast,  and 
has  revealed,  that  truly  noble  nature  that  entitles  him 
to  a  place  among  the  cherished  regards,  a  niche  among 
the  domestic  religions,  a  seat  at  the  old  hearths,  a 
home  in  the  hearts  of  a  nation. 

"  We   talk   and  think  of  measures ;   of  creeds  in 


1845-1849.]          TAYLOR   CLUB   OF   SALEM.  179 

politics ;  of  availability ;  of  strength  to  carry  the  vote 
of  Pennsylvania,  or  the  vote  of  Mississippi.  Through 
all  this  her  eye  seeks  the  moral,  prudential,  social,  and 
mental  character  of  the  man  himself,  —  and  she  finds  it. 

"  All  the  glare  and  clamor  of  the  hundred  victories 
of  Napoleon,  —  all  the  prestige  of  that  unmatched  in 
tellect,  and  that  fortune  and  that  renown,  more  than 
of  the  children  of  earth  —  while  they  dazzled  the 
senses,  and  paled  the  cheek  of  manhood  —  could  not 
win  him  the  love  and  regards  of  the  matronage  of 
France.  The  worship  of  Madame  de  Stael  was  the 
idiosyncrasy  of  an  idolatress  of  genius,  glory,  and 
power,  —  and  she  paid  it  alone. 

"  But  when  the  Father  of  his  Country,  our  Wash 
ington,  arrived,  on  his  way  to  the  seat  of  Government, 
at  that  bridge  of  Trenton,  how  sure  and  heart-prompted 
was  the  recognition,  by  the  mothers  and  daughters  of 
America,  of  that  greatness  which  is  in  goodness,  and 
of  the  daily  beauty  of  that  unequalled  life.  Those 
flowers  with  which  they  strewed  his  path,  while  they 
sung  that  ode,  —  that  laurel  and  evergreen  which  they 
twined  on  arch  and  pillar  for  him  to  pass  beneath,  had 
not  found  the  needful  air  and  light  and  soil  in  which 
they  had  sprung  with  a  surer  affinity  than  these  had 
detected  and  acknowledged  the  sublimity  of  the  vir 
tues,  the  kindness,  the  parental  love,  the  justice,  the 
honesty,  the  large  American  heart,  that  made  his 
'  fame  whiter  than  it  was  brilliant.' 

"  I  hear  then,  with  pleasure  not  to  be  expressed, 
this  testimony  —  from  such  a  source  —  to  the  candidate 
of  our  choice.  I  appreciate  the  discernment  that  has 
contrived  this  device,  and  written  this  inscription. 
Right  and  fit  it  is,  that  such  praise  as  theirs  should 


180  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  VI. 

commemorate  his  Honor,  who  has  done  so  much  to  fill 
the  measure  of  his  country's  glory,  —  his  Patriotism, 
on  whose  heart  her  love  has  burned  in  youth,  in  man 
hood,  ever  bright  as  on  an  altar, —  his  Humanity,  in 
whose  regards  this  cup  of  water,  pressed  to  the  lip  of 
the  wounded  prisoner,  is  a  sweeter  memory  than  the 
earthquake  voice  of  many  campaigns  of  victory  ! 

"  There  are  three  more  traits  of  his  character,  three 
more  fruits  of  his  election,  which  the  authors  of  this 
Gift  discern  and  appreciate. 

"  They  expect,  first,  that  his  will  be  an  administra 
tion  of  honorable  peace.  The  experiences  of  war  have 
more  than  sated  him  of  that  form  of  duty  and  that 
source  of  fame.  From  many  a  bloody  day  and  field 
—  too  many  —  he  turns  to  win  a  victory  of  peace. 
He  seeks  to  set  on  that  brow  a  garland  —  amaranthine 
and  blameless  —  compared  to  which  the  laurels  that  a 
Caesar  reaps  are  weeds.  .  .  . 

"  They  expect,  next,  that  his  administration  will 
be  illustrated  by  the  true  progress  of  America.  .  .  . 
They  expect  to  see  it  co-operating,  as  far  as  it  may, 
with  the  spirit  of  Humanity  in  achieving  the  utmost 
measure  of  good,  of  greatness,  of  amelioration,  of 
happiness,  of  which  philanthropy  and  patriotism  may 
dare  to  dream.  And  thus  they  look  to  an  administra 
tion  of  progress.  But  progress,  in  their  view  and  in 
yours,  does  not  consist,  and  is  not  exemplified,  in  add 
ing,  every  three  or  four  years,  to  our  already  imperial 
area,  a  country  three  times  larger  than  all  France,  and 
leaving  it  a  desert;  but  in  decorating  and  building  up 
what  we  have.  Their  idea  of  progress,  therefore,  and 
yours,  embraces  a  twofold  sentiment  and  a  twofold 
exertion  :  first,  to  improve  the  land  and  water,  —  to 


1845-1849.]  TAYLOR  CLUB  OF   SALEM.  181 

bring  out  the  material  resources  of  America  ;  and 
next,  to  improve  the  mind  and  heart  of  America  ;  dif 
fusing  thus  over  her  giant  limbs  and  features  the  glow 
and  grace  of  moral  beauty  —  as  morning  spread  upon 
the  mountains.  .  .  . 

"  They  expect,  finally,  that  his  administration  will 
be  memorable  for  having  strengthened  and  brightened 
the  golden  chain  of  the  American  Union.  They  ex 
pect  that,  under  the  sobriety  of  his  patriotism,  that 
Union  will  neither  be  sapped  by  the  expansion  of  our 
area,  until  identity,  nationality,  and  the  possibility  of 
all  cohesion  of  the  members  are  lost,  nor  rent  asunder 
by  the  desperate  and  profligate  device  of  geographical 
parties. — They  and  we,  Sir,  of  that  Union,  deem  all 
alike.  We,  too,  stand  by  the  shipping-articles  and  the 
ship  the  whole  voyage  round.  We  hold  that  no  in 
crease  of  our  country's  area,  —  although  we  hope 
never  to  see  another  acre  added  to  it ;  no  transfer  and 
no  location  of  our  centre  of  national  power,  —  although 
we  hope  never  to  see  it  leave  the  place  where  now  it 
is  ;  no  accession  of  new  stars  on  our  sky  —  were  they 
to  come  in  constellations,  thronging,  till  the  firmament 
were  in  a  blaze ;  that  none  of  these  things  should 
have  power  to  whisper  to  one  of  us  a  temptation  to 
treason.  We  go  for  the  Union  to  the  last  beat  of  the 
pulse  and  the  last  drop  of  blood.  We  know  and  feel 
that  there  —  there  —  in  that  endeared  name  —  be 
neath  that  charmed  Flag  —  among  those  old  glorious 
graves,  in  that  ample  and  that  secure  renown,  —  that 
there  we  have  garnered  up  our  hearts  —  there  we  must 
either  live,  or  bear  no  life.  With  our  sisters  of  the  Re 
public,  less  or  more,  we  would  live  and  we  would  die, 
— '  one  hope,  one  lot,  one  life,  one  glory.'  " 

The  subsequent  election  of  General  Taylor  gave  to 


182  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

Mr.  Choate  the  greatest  delight.  It  seemed  to  him, 
indeed,  a  triumph  of  HONOR,  PATRIOTISM,  HUMANITY. 
On  the  evening  when  the  intelligence  was  received  that 
made  the  matter  certain,  he  said  to  a  friend  who  called 
to  see  him :  "  Is  not  this  sweet  ?  Is  it  not  sweet  ? 
The  whole  country  seems  to  me  a  garden  to-night,  from 
Maine  to  New  Orleans.  It  is  fragrant  all  over,  and  I 
am  breathing  the  whole  perfume." 

About  this  time  a  position  as  Professor  of  the  Law 
School  at  Cambridge  was  urged  upon  Mr.  Choate  in  a 
manner  so  sincere,  so  unusual,  and  so  honorable  to  all 
parties,  that  I  am  especially  glad  to  be  permitted  to 
present  the  facts  in  the  words  of  one  who  knew  them 
familiarly,  —  the  late  Chief  Justice  Shaw. 

"  After  the  reorganization  of  the  Law  School  at  Har 
vard  College,  by  the  large  donation  of  Mr.  Dane,  and 
the  appointment  of  Mr.  Justice  Story  as  Dane  Profes 
sor,  the  school  acquired  a  high  reputation  throughout 
the  United  States.  It  was  regarded  as  an  institution 
to  which  young  men  could  be  beneficially  sent  from 
every  part  of  the  country  to  be  thoroughly  trained  in 
the  general  principles  of  jurisprudence,  and  the  ele 
mentary  doctrines  of  the  common  law,  which  underlie 
the  jurisprudence  of  all  the  States.  This  reputation, 
which  is  believed  to  be  well  founded,  was  attributable, 
in  a  great  measure,  to  the  peculiar  qualifications,  and 
to  the  efficient  services  of  Judge  Story,  in  performing 
the  duties  of  his  professorship.  It  was  not  so  much  by 
his  profound  and  exact  knowledge  of  the  law  in  all  its 
departments,  nor  by  his  extensive  knowledge  of  books, 
ancient  and  modern,  that  the  students  were  benefited, 
as  by  his  earnest  and  almost  impetuous  eloquence,  the 
fulness  and  clearness  of  his  illustrations  with  which  he 


1845-1849.]        OFFER  OF  A  PROFESSORSHIP.  183 

awakened  the  aspirations,  and  impressed  the  minds,  of 
his  youthful  hearers.  He  also  demonstrated  in  his 
own  person  how  much  may  be  accomplished  by  a  man 
of  extraordinary  talent  and  untiring  industry, —  hav 
ing  successfully  and  faithfully  performed  the  duties  of 
his  professorship,  being  engaged  at  the  same  time  in 
two  other  departments  of  intellectual  labor,  that  of 
Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States, 
and  author  of  elaborate  treatises  on  the  science  and 
practice  of  law,  —  each  of  which  would  seem  sufficient 
to  require  the  exclusive  attention  of  a  very  industrious 
man. 

"  Some  time  after  the  decease  of  Judge  Story, 
whether  immediately,  or  after  the  lapse  of  two  or  three 
years,  I  do  not  know,  but  as  near  as  I  recollect,  about 
the  year  1848,  the  attention  of  the  President  and  Fel 
lows  of  Harvard  College  was  turned  to  Mr.  Choate,  at 
once  an  eminent  jurist  and  an  advocate  conspicuous 
for  his  commanding  and  persuasive  eloquence,  whose 
services,  if  they  could  be  obtained,  would  render  him 
eminently  of  use  in  the  Dane  Law  School.  Indeed  he 
was  too  prominent  a  public  man  to  be  overlooked,  as  a 
candidate  offering  powers  of  surpassing  fitness  for  such 
a  station.  But  it  was  never  supposed  by  the  Corpora 
tion,  that  the  comparatively  retired  position  of  a  Col 
lege  Professor,  and  the  ordinary,  though  pretty  liberal 
emoluments  of  such  an  office,  could  induce  Mr.  Choate 
to  renounce  all  the  honors  and  profits  of  the  legal  pro 
fession  which  rightly  belonged  to  him,  as  Leader  of 
the  Bar  in  every  department  of  forensic  eloquence. 
But  about  the  time  alluded  to,  Mr.  Choate,  having  re 
tired  from  political  life,  was  apparently  devoting  him 
self  ardently  and  exclusively  to  the  profession  of  the 


184  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  VI. 

law  as  a  jurist  and  advocate.  It  was  thought  by  the 
Corporation  that  a  scheme  might  be  arranged,  if  it 
suited  his  tastes  and  satisfied  his  expectation  of  pro 
fessional  eminence,  which  would  secure  to  the  Law 
School  of  the  University  the  benefit  of  his  great 
talents,  place  him  conspicuously  before  the  whole 
country,  and  afford  to  himself  the  immunities  and  the 
reputation  of  a  great  jurist  and  advocate. 

"  It  was  the  opinion  of  the  members  of  the  Corpora 
tion,  that  in  appointing  instructors  for  an  academical 
institution,  designed  to  instruct  young  men  in  the 
science  of  jurisprudence,  and  in  part  to  fit  them  for 
actual  practice  in  the  administration  of  the  law  in 
courts  of  justice  (an  opinion,  I  believe,  which  they 
hold  in  common  with  many  who  have  most  reflected 
on  the  means  of  acquiring  a  legal  education),  it  is  not 
desirable  that  an  instructor  in  such  institution  should 
be  wholly  withdrawn  from  practice  in  courts.  Law  is 
an  art  as  well  as  a  science.  Whilst  it  has  its  founda 
tion  in  a  broad  and  comprehensive  morality,  and  in 
profound  and  exact  science,  to  be  adapted  to  actual  use 
in  controlling  and  regulating  the  concerns  of  social 
life,  it  must  have  its  artistic  skill  which  can  only  be 
acquired  by  habitual  practice  in  courts  of  justice.  A 
man  may  be  a  laborious  student,  have  an  inquiring 
and  discriminating  mind,  and  have  all  the  advantage 
which  a  library  of  the  best  books  can  afford,  and  yet, 
without  actual  attendance  on  courts,  and  the  means 
and  facilities  which  practice  affords,  he  would  be  little 
prepared  either  to  try  questions  of  fact,  or  argue  ques 
tions  of  law.  The  instructor,  therefore,  who  to  some 
extent  maintains  his  familiarity  with  actual  practice, 
by  an  occasional  attendance  as  an  advocate  in  courts 


1845-1849.]        OFFER  OF  A  PROFESSORSHIP. 


185 


of  justice,  would  be  better  prepared  to  train  the  studies 
and  form  the  mental  habits  of  young  men  designed  for 
the  Bar. 

"  No  formal  application  was  made  to  Mr.  Choate, 
but  a  plan  was  informally  suggested  to  him,  with  the 
sanction  of  the  Corporation,  and  explained  in  conver 
sation  substantially  to  the  following  effect :  According 
to  the  plan  of  the  Law  School  of  the  College,  there  are 
two  terms  or  sessions  in  the  year,  of  about  twenty 
weeks  each,  with  vacations  intervening  of  about  six 
*  weeks  each.  The  first  or  autumn  term  commences 
about  the  1st  of  September,  and  closes  near  the  middle 
of  January  ;  the  spring  term  commences  about  the 
1st  of  March,  and  continues  to  July.  The  exercises 
during  term-time  consist  of  daily  lectures  and  reci 
tations,  conducted  by  the  several  professors,  of  moot 
courts  for  the  discussion  of  questions  of  law,  delibera 
tive  oral  discussions,  in  the  nature  of  legislative  de 
bates  ;  some  written  exercises  also,  on  questions  and 
subjects  proposed,  make  up  the  course  of  training. 
Instructions  in  these  exercises  were  given  in  nearly 
equal  proportions  by  three  professors,  of  whom  the 
Dane  Professor  was  one.  The  moot  courts  and  delib 
erative  discussions  were  uniformly  presided  over  by 
one  of  the  professors. 

"  At  the  time  referred  to,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States  commenced  their  annual  session  the 
first  week  in  December,  and  continued  to  about  the 
middle  of  March.  It  was  thought,  that  without  any 
perceptible  derangement  of  the  course  of  instruction 
in  the  Law  School,  the  duties  of  the  Dane  Professor 
ship  might  be  so  modified  as  to  enable  Mr.  Choate  to 
attend  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  at 


186  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CIIAP.  VI. 

Washington  during  their  whole  term.  The  duties  of 
the  three  professors  are  not  such  as  to  require  the  at 
tendance  of  each,  on  every  day  of  the  term  ;  nor  is  it 
essential  that  the  different  departments  of  the  duties 
assigned  to  them  respectively  should  be  taken  up  in 
any  exact  order.  Then  by  an  arrangement  with  the 
other  professors,  the  subjects  specially  committed  to  the 
Dane  Professor,  and  his  proportion  of  all  other  duties, 
might  be  taken  up  and  finished  in  the  early  part  of  the 
autumn  term,  so  that  without  detriment  to  the  in 
struction,  he  might  leave  it  several  weeks  before  its  * 
termination,  and  in  like  manner  postpone  them  a  few 
weeks  at  the  commencement  of  the  spring  term,  so 
that  with  the  six  weeks'  vacation  in  mid-winter,  these 
curtailments  from  the  two  terms  would  equal  in  length 
of  time  that  of  the  entire  session  of  the  National  Su 
preme  Court. 

"  The  advantages  to  Mr.  Choate  seemed  obvious. 
When  it  was  previously  known  that  he  might  be  de 
pended  on  to  attend  at  the  entire  term  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  we  supposed  he  would  receive  a  retainer  in  a 
large  proportion  of  the  cases  which  would  go  up  from 
New  England,  and  in  many  important  causes  from  all 
the  other  States.  The  effect  of  this  practice  upon  the 
emoluments  of  his  profession  might  be  anticipated. 
No  case,  we  believe,  whether  in  law,  equity,  or  admi 
ralty,  can  reach  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  until  the  case,  that  is,  a  statement  of  all  the 
facts  on  which  questions  may  arise,  is  reduced  to  writ 
ing  in  some  form,  embraced  in  the  record. 

"  He  would  therefore  have  ample  opportunity,  with 
his  case  before  him,  and  with  the  use  of  the  best  Law 
Library  in  the  country,  and  the  assistance  of  a  class  of 


1845-1849.]  OFFER   OF  A  PROFESSORSHIP.  187 

young  men  ever  eager  to  aid  in  seeking  and  applying 
authorities^  and  proposing  cases  for  argument,  to  avail 
himself  of  all  the  leisure  desirable  at  his  own  chambers, 
to  study  his  cases  thoroughly,  and  prepare  himself  for 
his  arguments.  The  extent  to  which  such  a  practice 
with  such  means  would  soon  add  to  the  solid  reputa 
tion  of  Mr.  Choate,  may  easily  be  conceived,  especially 
by  those  who  knew  the  strength  of  his  intellectual 
power,  and  the  keenness  of  his  faculty  for  discrimina 
tion.  The  advantages  to  the  Law  School  contemplated 
by  this  arrangement  were,  that  Mr.  Choate  would  not 
only  bring  to  the  institution  the  persuasive  eloquence, 
and  the  profound  legal  learning  which  he  then  pos 
sessed,  but  by  an  habitual  practice  in  one  of  the  highest 
tribunals  in  the  world,  a  tribunal  which  has  jurisdic 
tion  of  more  important  public  and  private  rights  than 
any  other,  he  would  keep  up  with  all  the  changes  of 
the  times,  in  jurisprudence  and  legislation,  and  bring 
to  the  service  of  his  pupils  the  products  of  a  constantly 
growing  experience. 

"  But  this  plan,  in  the  judgment  of  the  Corporation, 
necessarily  involved  Mr.  Choate's  residence  at  Cam 
bridge,  and  an  entire  renunciation  of  all  jury  trials, 
and  all  other  practice  in  courts,  except  occasionally  a 
law  argument  before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State 
at  Boston  or  Cambridge,  each  being  within  a  short  dis 
tance  of  his  home.  It  has  been  considered  important 
by  the  Corporation  that  the  Professors  of  the  Law 
School  should  reside  in  Cambridge,  to  afford  thereby 
the  benefit  of  their  aid  and  counsel  in  the  small  num 
ber  composing  the  Law  Faculty.  In  the  case  of  Mr. 
Choate,  it  was  considered  quite  indispensable  that  he 
should  reside  in  Cambridge,  on  account  of  the  influence 


188  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VI. 

which  his  genial  manners,  his  habitual  presence,  and 
the  force  of  his  character  would  be  likely  to  exert  over 
the  young  men  drawn  from  every  part  of  the  United 
States  to  listen  to  his  instructions.  There  was  another 
consideration  leading,  in  Mr.  Choate's  case,  to  the  same 
result,  which  was,  that  the  breaking  off  from  the  former 
scenes  of  his  labors  and  triumphs,  so  necessary  to  his 
success  in  the  plan  proposed,  would  be  more  effectually 
accomplished  by  his  establishing  at  once  a  new  resi 
dence,  and  contracting  new  habits.  Both  considera 
tions  had  great  weight  in  inducing  those  who  com 
municated  with  Mr.  Choate,  to  urge  his  removal  to 
Cambridge,  and  the  fixing  there  of  his  future  residence, 
as  essential  features  of  the  arrangement. 

"  Mr.  Choate  listened  attentively  to  these  proposals 
and  discussed  them  freely  ;  he  was  apparently  much 
pleased  with  the  brilliant  and  somewhat  attractive 
prospect  presented  to  him  by  this  overture.  He  did 
not  immediately  decline  the  offer,  but  proposed  to 
take  it  into  consideration.  Some  time  after,  perhaps  a 
week,  he  informed  me  that  he  could  not  accede  to  the 
proposal.  He  did  not  sta'te  to  me  his  reasons,  or  if  he 
did,  1  do  not  recollect  them." 

It  was  not  far  from  this  time,  also,  that  Mr.  Choate 
received  from  Gov.  Briggs  the  honorable  offer  of  a  seat 
upon  the  bench  of  the  Supreme  Court.  It  was  urged 
upon  him  by  some  of  his  friends,  as  affording  him  the 
rest  which  he  seemed  to  need.  But  he  felt  that  he 
could  hardly  afford  to  take  it,  and,  after  due  considera 
tion,  respectfully  declined. 

In  March  of  this  year — 1849  —  he  delivered  before 
the  Mercantile  Library  Association  the  closing  lecture 


1845-1849.]         THOUGHTS  ON  THE  PURITANS.  189 

of  the  winter  course.  The  first  two  volumes  of  Mr. 
Macaulay's  brilliant  history  had  been  but  recently  pub 
lished  ;  and  availing  himself  of  the  newly  awakened 
interest,  he  chose  for  his  subject  one  always  fresh  to 
himself,  "Thoughts  on  the  New-England  Puritans." 
A  short  extract,  comparing  the  public  life  of  that  day 
with  ours,  will  indicate  the  tone  and  spirit  of  the 
whole. 

u  In  inspecting  a  little  more  closely  the  colonial 
period  of  1688,  than  heretofore  I  ever  had  done,  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  the  life  of  an  able,  prominent,  and 
educated  man  of  that  day  in  Massachusetts  was  a  life 
of  a  great  deal  more  dignity,  interest,  and  enjoyment 
than  we  are  apt  to  imagine ;  that  it  would  compare 
quite  advantageously  with  the  life  of  an  equally  promi 
nent,  able,  and  educated  man  in  Massachusetts  now. 
We  look  into  the  upper  life  of  Old  England  in  1688, 
stirred  by  the  scenes  —  kindled  and  lifted  up  by  the 
passions  of  a  great  action  —  the  dethronement  of  a 
king;  the  crowning  of  a  king;  the  vindication  and 
settlement  of  English  liberty ;  the  reform  of  the  Eng 
lish  constitution, —  parent  of  more  reform  and  of  prog 
ress  without  end,  —  and  we  are  dazzled.  Renown 
and  grace  are  there ;  the  glories  of  the  Augustan 
age  of  English  letters,  just  dawning ;  Newton  first 
unrolling  the  system  of  the  Universe  ;  the  school 
boy  dreamings  of  Pope  and  Addison  ;  the  beautiful 
eloquence  and  more  beautiful  public  character  of 
Somers  waiting  to  receive  that  exquisite  dedication 
of  the  Spectator ;  the  serene  and  fair  large  brow 
of  Maryborough,  on  which  the  laurels  of  Blenheim 
and  Malplaquet  had  not  yet  clustered.  We  turn 
to  the  Colonial  life  of  the  same  day,  and  it  seems  at 


190  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

first  as  if  it  could  not  have  been  borne  for  half  an 
hour.  What  a  time  of  small  things,  to  be  sure,  at  first 
it  appears  to  be.  The  sweet  pathos,  the  heroical  inter 
est  of  the  landing  at  Plymouth,  of  the  journey  to 
Charlestown,  are  gone  ;  the  grander  excitations  of  the 
age  of  Independence  are  not  yet  begun  to  be  felt ;  hard 
living ;  austere  manners ;  provincial  and  parochial  in 
significance  ;  stupendous  fabrics  of  witchcraft,  and 
disputes  of  grace  and  works ;  little  tormentings  of 
Quakers  and  Antinomians  ;  synods  to  build  platforms, 
on  which  nothing  would  stand  ;  fast  days  for  sins  which 
there  was  no  possibility  to  commit,  and  thanksgivings 
for  mercies  never  received  ;  these  at  first  sight  seem  to 
be  the  Massachusetts  life  of  that  day.  But  look  a  little 
closer.  Take  the  instance  of  an  educated  public  man 
of  Massachusetts  about  the  year  1688,  —  a  governor ; 
a  magistrate  ;  an  alumnus  of  Harvard  College,  learned 
in  the  learning  of  his  time;  a  foremost  man,  —  and 
trace  him  through  a  day  of  his  life.  Observe  the  va 
riety  and  dignity  of  his  employments ;  the  weight  of 
his  cares  ;  the  range  of  his  train  of  thoughts;  his  re 
sources  against  ennui  and  satiety  ;  on  what  aliment  his 
spiritual  and  intellectual  nature  could  feed;  appreciate 
his  past,  his  present,  and  his  future,  and  see  if  you  are 
quite  sure  that  a  man  of  equal  ability,  prominence,  and 
learning  is  as  high  or  as  happy  now. 

"  First,  last,  midst,  of  all  the  elements  of  interest  in 
the  life  of  such  a  man  was  this :  that  it  was  in  a  just 
and  grand  sense,  a  public  life.  He  was  a  public  man. 
And  what  sort  of  a  public  man,  —  what  doing  in  that 
capacity  ?  This  exactly.  He  was,  he  felt  himself  to 
be  —  and  here  lay  the  felicity  of  his  lot,  —  he  was  in 
the  very  act  of  building  up  a  new  nation  where  no  na- 


1845-1849.]        THOUGHTS  ON  THE  PURITANS.  191 

tion  was  before.  The  work  was  in  the  very  process  of 
doing  from  day  to  day,  from  hour  to  hour.  Every  day 
it  was  changing  its  form  under  his  eye  and  under  his 
hand.  Instead  of  being  born  ignominiously  into  an  es 
tablished  order  of  things,  a  recognized  and  stable  State, 
to  the  duties  of  mere  conservation,  and  the  rewards  of 
mere  enjoyment,  his  function  he  felt  to  be  that  rarer, 
more  heroical,  more  epic  —  to  plant,  to  found,  to 
construct  a  new  State  upon  the  waste  of  earth.  He 
felt  himself  to  be  of  the  conditores  imperiorum.  Im 
perial  labors  were  his ;  imperial  results  were  his. 
Whether  the  State  (that  grandest  of  the  works  of  man 
—  grander  than  the  Pyramids,  or  Iliads,  or  systems  of 
the  Stars  !)  —  whether  the  State  should  last  a  year  or 
a  thousand  years,  —  whether  it  should  be  contracted 
within  lines  three  miles  north  of  the  Merrimack,  three 
miles  south  of  the  Charles,  and  a  little  east  of  the 
Hudson,  or  spread  to  the  head  waters  of  the  Aroostook, 
and  St.  John,  and  the  springs  of  the  Merrimack  among 
the  crystal  hills  of  New  England,  and  to  the  great  sea 
on  the  west ;  whether  a  Stuart  and  a  Papist  king  of 
England  should  grasp  its  charter,  or  the  bayonet  or 
tomahawk  of  French  or  Indians  quench  its  life ;  — 
whether  if  it  outlived,  as  Jeremy  Taylor  has  said,  '  the 
chances  of  a  child/  it  should  grow  up  to  be  one  day  a 
pious,  learned,  well-ordered,  and  law-abiding  Common 
wealth  ;  a  freer  and  more  beautiful  England ;  a  less 
tumultuary  and  not  less  tasteful  Athens  ;  a  larger  and 
more  tolerant  Geneva ;  or  a  school  of  prophets  —  a 
garden  of  God  —  a  praise  —  a  glory ;  all  this  seemed 
to  such  a  man  as  I  have  described,  as  he  awoke  in  the 
morning,  to  depend  appreciably  and  consciously  on 
what  he  might  do  or  omit  to  do,  before  he  laid  his  head 


192  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

on  his  pillow  that  very  night.  Public  life  in  Massa 
chusetts  that  day  did  not  consist  in  sending  or  being 
sent  to  Congress  with  a  dozen  associates,  to  be  voted 
down  in  a  body  of  delegates  representing  half  of  North 
America.  Still  less  was  it  a  life  of  leisure  and  epi 
cureanism.  This  man  of  whom  I  speak,  within  the 
compass  of  a  single  twenty-four  hours,  might  have  to 
correspond  with  Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  and  Ply 
mouth  Colony,  and  the  Royal  Government  of  New 
Hampshire,  upon  the  subject  of  boundary  lines,  —  the 
boundary  lines  of  States,  as  against  one  another  wholly 
independent,  —  a  dignified  and  historical  deliberation  ; 
to  collate  and  to  draw  practical  conclusions  from  all 
manner  of  contradictory  information  touching  move 
ments  of  Indians  at  Casco  Bay  and  the  Penobscot ;  to 
confer  with  Sir  William  Phipps  about  the  raising  of 
troops  to  attack  Port  Royal  or  Quebec ;  to  instruct  the 
agent  of  the  Colony,  who  was  to  sail  for  England  next 
morning,  to  watch  the  course  of  the  struggle  between 
the  last  of  the  Stuarts,  the  people  of  England,  and  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  or  to  meditate  his  report  from  Lon 
don  ;  to  draw  up  a  politic,  legal,  and  skilful  address  to 
his  king's  most  excellent  and  blessed  majesty,  to  show 
that  we  had  not  forfeited  the  life  of  the  charter  and  the 
birthright  of  English  souls ;  to  take  counsel  on  the 
state  of  the  free  schools,  the  university,  and  the  law ; 
to  communicate  with  some  learned  judge  on  the  com 
position  of  our  decennial  twelve  tables  of  the  juris 
prudence  of  liberty ;  to  communicate  with  learned  di 
vines  —  the  ardent  Mathers,  father  and  son,  and  with 
Brattle  —  on  the  ecclesiastical  well-being  of  the  State, 
the  aspects  of  Papacy  and  Episcopacy,  the  agencies  of 
the  invisible  world,  the  crises  of  Congregationalism, 


1845-1849.]        THOUGHTS   ON  THE  PURITANS.  193 

the  backslidings  of  faith  for  life,  and  all  those  wayward 
tendencies  of  opinion,  which,  with  fear  of  change,  per 
plexed  the  church. 

"  Compare  with  the  life  of  such  an  one  the  life  of  a 
Massachusetts  public  man  of  this  day.  How  crowded 
that  was ;  how  burthened  with  individual  responsi 
bility  ;  how  oppressed  with  large  interests ;  how  far 
more  palpable  and  real  the  influence ;  how  much 
higher  and  wider  the  topics ;  how  far  grander  the 
cares  !  Why,  take  the  highest  and  best  Massachusetts 
public  men  of  all  among  us.  Take  his  Excellency. 
What  has  he  to  do  with  French  at  Port  Royal,  or 
Indians  at  Saco,  or  Dutch  on  the  Hudson  ?  How 
much  sleep  does  he  lose  from  fear  that  the  next 
steamer  will  bring  news  that  the  Crown  of  England  has 
repealed  the  Constitution  of  Massachusetts  ?  When 
will  he  lie  awake  at  dead  of  night  to  see  Cotton  Mather 
drawing  his  curtain  —  pale  as  the  ghost  of  Banquo  — 
to  tell  him  that  witchcraft  is  celebrating  pale  Hecate's 
offerings  at  Danvers  ?  Where  is  it  now  —  the  grand, 
peculiar  charm  —  that  belongs  ever  to  the  era  and  the 
act,  of  the  planting  and  infancy  of  a  State  ?  Where  — 
where  now  —  those  tears  of  bearded  men  ;  the  faded 
cheek  ;  the  throbbing  heart ;  the  brow  all  furrowed 
with  imperial  lines  of  policy  and  care,  —  that  give  the 
seed  to  earth,  whose  harvest  shall  be  reaped  when  some 
generations  are  come  and  gone  ?  " 

During  the  summer  of  the  same  year,  the  Phillips 
Will  Case,  as  it  was  called,  was  argued  by  him  at  Ips 
wich.  It  involved  the  disposal  of  nearly  a  million  of 
dollars.  The  will  was  dated  at  Nahant,  where  Mr. 
Phillips  had  his  residence,  October  9,  184T.  He  soon 
after  left  for  Europe,  and  the  next  year,  having  re- 

13 


194  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VI. 

turned,  put  an  end  to  his  own  life  in  Brattleborough, 
Vt.,  June  28,  1848.  It  was  found  on  examination  that 
after  giving  considerable  sums  to  his  mother  and 
sisters,  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  the  Observatory 
in  Cambridge,  and  several  minor  bequests  to  his  friends, 
he  left  the  bulk  of  his  property  to  a  relative,  who  was 
already  prospectively  very  wealthy.  The  heirs- at-law 
disputed  the  will  on  the  grounds  —  1st,  of  the  insanity 
or  imbecility  of  the  testator ;  2d,  that  an  undue  influ 
ence  had  been  exercised  over  him;  and  3d,  that  the 
will  was  void  because  executed  on  a  Sunday.  It  is 
seldom  that  an  array  of  counsel  of  such  eminent  ability 
is  seen  at  once  in  court.  For  the  heirs-at-law  appeared 
W.  H.  Gardiner,  Joel  Parker,  and  Sidney  Bartlett. 
For  the  executors,  Rufus  Choate,  Benj.  R.  Curtis,  and 
Otis  P.  Lord.  After  a  searching  examination  of  wit 
nesses  and  documents,  protracted  through  a  whole 
week,  the  arguments  were  made  by  Mr.  Gardiner  on 
one  side  and  Mr.  Choate  on  the  other.  That  it  was 
one  of  Mr.  Choate's  ablest  and  most  conclusive  argu 
ments,  conceived  in  his  best  vein,  and  conducted  with 
consummate  skill  and  eloquence,  is  the  testimony  of 
all  who  were  present.  To  those  who  never  heard  him 
before,  it  was  a  new  revelation  of  the  scope  and  power 
of  legal  eloquence.  Unfortunately  it  perished  with 
the  breath  that  uttered  it.  Nothing  remains  to  attest 
its  ability  but  its  success.  The  decision  of  the  jury  on 
every  point  was  in  favor  of  the  will. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  Senate,  Mr.  Choate  entered 
upon  a  course  of  careful  study  for  the  purpose  of  a 
more  thorough  self-discipline.  He  began  to  translate 
Thucydides,  Demosthenes,  and  Tacitus.  He  marked 
out  a  course  of  systematic  reading,  and  resolutely  res- 


1845-1849.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  195 

cued  hours  of  daily  labor  from  sleep,  from  society, 
from  recreation.  Under  the  date  of  October,  1845,  he 
says,  UI  am  reading,  meditating,  and  translating  the 
first  of  Greek  historians,  Thucydides.  I  study  the 
Greek  critically  in  Passow,  Bloomfield,  and  Arnold, 
and  the  history  in  Mitford,  Thiiiwall,  Wachsmuth, 
Hermann,  &c.,  <fcc.,  and  translate  faithfully,  yet  with 
some  attention  to  English  words  and  construction  ; 
and  my  purpose  is  to  study  deeply  the  Greece  of  the 
age  of  Pericles,  and  all  its  warnings  to  the  liberty  and 
the  anti-unionisms  of  my  own  country  and  time." 

Several  fragments  of  journals,  and  sketches  of  prom 
ised  labor,  without  dates,  seem  referable  to  the  years 
between  1845  and  1850,  and  may  be  inserted  here. 
They  show  the  diligent  efforts  at  self-culture  in  the 
midst  of  entangling  and  exhausting  labors. 

"  VACATIONS.  —  PRIVATE.  —  HINTS  FOR  MYSELF. 

"  It  is  plain  that  if  I  am  to  do  aught  beyond  the  mere 
drudgery  of  my  profession,  for  profit  of  others  or  of  myself; 
if  I  am  to  ripen  and  to  produce  any  fruit  of  study,  and  to  con 
struct  any  image  or  memorial  of  my  mind  and  thoughts,  it 
must  be  done  or  be  begun  quickly.  To  this  I  have  admoni 
tion  in  all  things.  High  time  —  if  not  too  late  —  it  is  to 
choose  between  the  two  alternatives  —  to  amuse  —  scarcely 
amuse,  (for  how  sad  and  ennuyant  is  mere  desultory  reading  !) 
such  moments  of  leisure  as  business  leaves  me,  in  various 
random  reading  of  good  books,  or  to  gather  up  these  moments, 
consolidate  and  mould  them  into  something  worthy  of  myself, 
which  may  do  good  where  I  am  not  known,  and  live  when  I 
shall  have  ceased  to  live  —  a  thoughtful  and  soothing  and  rich 
printed  page.  Thus  far  —  almost  to  the  Aristotelian  term  of 
utmost  mental  maturity  —  I  have  squandered  these  moments 
away.  They  have  gone  —  not  in  pleasure,  nor  the  pursuit  of 
gain,  nor  in  the  trivialities  of  society  —  but  in  desultory  read 
ing,  mainly  of  approved  authors  ;  often,  much,  of  the  grandest 
of  the  children  of  Light  —  but  reading  without  method  and 


196  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VI. 

without  results.  No  doubt  taste  has  been  improved,  senti 
ments  enlarged,  language  heightened,  and  many  of  the  effects 
—  inevitable,  insensible,  and  abiding  of  liberal  culture,  im 
pressed  on  the  spirit.  But  for  all  this,  who  is  better?  Of  all 
this,  who  sees  the  proofs  ?  How  selfish  and  how  narrow  the 
couch  of  these  gratifications !  How  idle  the  strenuousuess  of 
daily  labor  !  How  instantly  the  air  will  close  on  this  arrowy 
path  !  How  sad,  how  contemptible,  that  no  more  should  be 
left  of  such  a  life,  than  of  the  common] >lace  and  vacant  and 
satisfied,  on  this  side  and  that !  I  have  been  under  the  influ 
ence  of  such  thoughts,  meditating  the  choice  of  the  alterna 
tive.  I  would  arrest  these  moments,  accumulate  them,  trans 
form  them  into  days  and  years  of  remembrance  !  To  this 
end,  I  design  to  compose  a  collection  of  papers  which  I  will 
call  vacations.  These  shall  embody  the  studies  and  thoughts 
of  my  fitful,  fragmentary  leisure.  They  shall  be  most  slowly 
and  carefully  written  —  with  research  of  authors,  with  medita 
tion,  with  great  attention  to  the  style  —  yet  essay-like, 
various,  and  free  as  epistles.  I  call  them  vacations,  to  inti 
mate  that  they  are  the  fruits  of  moments  withdrawn  from  the 
main  of  life's  idle  business,  and  the  performances  of  a  mind, 
whose  chief  energies  are  otherwise  exercised.  The  subjects 
are  to  be  so  various  as  to  include  all  things  of  which  I  read  or 
think  con  amore,  and  they  are  to  be  tasks,  too,  for  reviving, 
re-arranging,  and  increasing  the  acquisitions  I  have  made. 
My  first  business  is  to  prepare  an  introductory  and  explan 
atory  paper  for  the  public,  —  as  this  is  for  myself,  —  and  then 
to  settle  something  like  a  course  of  the  subjects  themselves. 
Such*  a  course  it  will  be  indispensable  to  prescribe,  nearly 
impossible  to  adhere  to.  Single  topics  are  more  easily  in 
dicated.  The  Greek  orators  before  Lysias  and  Isocrates, — 
Demosthenes,  -ZEschines,  Thucydides,  the  Odyssey,  Tacitus, 
Juvenal,  Pope  —  supply  them  at  once;  Rhetoric,  conservatism 
of  the  bar,  my  unpublished  orations,  the  times,  politics,  remi 
niscences  —  suggest  others  —  Cicero  and  Burke,  Tiberius  in 
Tacitus,  and  Suetonius,  and  De  Quincey,  —  but  why  enum 
erate  ?  The  literature  of  this  century,  to  the  death  of  Scott 
or  Moore — so  grand,  rich,  and  passionate."  — 

[The  succeeding  sheets  are  missing.     Some  of  these  sub 
jects  he  wrought  into  his  lectures.] 


1845-1849.]  FRAGMENTARY  JOURNAL.  197 

"  I  have  at  last  hit  upon  a  plan  for  the  thorough  study  of 
the  history  of  the  Constitution,  which  I  hope  may  advance 
all  my  objects,  —  the  thorough  acquisition  of  the  facts;  the 
vivid  reproduction  of  the  eventful  age  ;  the  rhetorical  expres 
sion  and  exhibition  of  the  whole.  I  shall  compose  a  succes 
sion  of  speeches,  supposed  to  have  been  made  in  Congress,  in 
conventions,  or  in  assemblies  of  the  people,  in  the  period  of  from 
1783  to  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  in  which  shall  be 
embodied  the  facts,  the  reasonings,  and  the  whole  scheme  of 
opinions  and  of  policy,  of  the  time.  I  select  a  speaker  and  a 
subject ;  and  I  make  his  discussion,  or  the  discussion  of  his 
antagonist,  revive  and  paint  the  actual  political  day  on  which 
he  speaks.  My  first  subject  is  the  resolution  of  April,  1783, 
—  recommending  to  the  States  to  vest  in  Congress  the  power 
of  imposing  certain  duties  for  raising  revenue  to  pay  the  debt 
of  the  war.  To  prepare  for  this  debate  I  read  Pitkin,  Mar 
shall,  Life  of  Hamilton,  and  above  all,  Washington's  Address 
to  the  People  of  8  June,  1783,  and  that  of  the  Committee  of 
Congress. 

"Mr.  Ellsworth  or  Mr.  Madison  or  Mr.  Hamilton  may 
have  introduced  the  measure ;  and  a  review  of  the  past,  a 
survey  of  the  present,  a  glance  toward  the  future,  would  be 
unavoidably  interwoven  with  the  mere  business-like  and 
necessary  exposition  of  the  proposition  itself." 

It  is  evident  from  the  above  fragment,  that  Mr. 
Choate  cherished  the  purpose  of  embodying  his  reflec 
tions  on  various  subjects  in  a  series  of  papers.  To 
this  he  sometimes  jocosely  referred  in  conversation 
with  other  members  of  the  bar.  He  once  told  Judge 
Warren  that  he  was  going  to  write  a  book.  "  Ah," 
said  the  Judge,  "  what  is  it  to  be  ? "  — "  Well,"  replied  0 
Mr.  Choate,  "  I've  got  as  far  as  the  title-page  and  a 
motto."  —  "  What  are  they  ?  "  —  "  The  subject  is  4  The 
Lawyer's  Vacation,'  the  motto  —  I've  forgotten.  But 
I  shall  show  that  the  lawyer's  vacation  is  the  space  be 
tween  the  question  put  to  a  witness  and  his  answer !  " 

The  following  seems  to  be  an  essay  towards  a  title 
and  introduction  to  some  such  work :  • — 


198  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  VI. 

"VACATIONS. 

"BT   A   MEMBER   OF   THE   BAR   OF   MASSACHUSETTS. 

"  Paululum  itinere  decedere,  non  intempestivis  amcenitatibus,  adino- 
nemur.  —  PLINY. 

"ADVERTISEMENT. 

"  The  vacations  of  the  Massachusetts,  and  I  suppose  of  the 
general  American  Bar,  are  not  certain  stated  and  consider 
able  seasons  in  which  a  lawyer  may  turn  his  office-key,  and 
ramble  away,  without  reclamation  or  reproval,  to  lake  and 
prairie,  and  '  beyond  the  diminished  sea  ; '  or  resign  himself, 
with  an  absolute  abandonment  of  successive  weeks,  to  those 
thoughts  and  studies  of  an  higher  mood,  by  which  soul  and 
body  might  be  sooner  and  longer  rested  and  recreated.  They 
are,  rather,  divers  infinitely  minute  particles  of  time,  —  half- 
hours  before  breakfast,  or  after  dinner,  Saturdays  at  evening, 
intervals  between  the  going  out  of  one  client  and  the  coming 
in  of  another  ;  blessed,  rare,  fortuitous  days,  when  no  Court 
sits,  nor  Referee,  nor  Master  in  Chancery,  nor  Commissioner, 
nor  Judge  at  Chambers,  nor  Legislative  Committee,  —  these 
snatches  and  interstitial  spaces,  moments,  literal  and  fleet,  are 
our  vacations. 

"  How  difficult  it  is  to  arrest  these  moments,  to  aggregate 
them,  to  till  them  as  it  were,  to  make  them  day  by  day  ex 
tend  our  knowledge,  refine  our  tastes,  accomplish  our  whole 
culture  !  —  how  much  more  difficult  to  turn  them  to  any  large 
account  in  the  way  of  scholarship  and  authorship,  'sowing 
them,'  as  Jeremy  Taylor  has  said,  *  with  that  which  shall 
grow  up  to  crowns  and  sceptres,' — all  members  of  the  pro 
fession  of  the  law  have  experienced,  and  all  others  may  well 
understand  !  That  they  afford  time  enough,  if  wisely  used,  for 
4  the  exercises  and  direct  actions  of  religion,'  for  much  domes 
tic  and  social  enjoyment,  for  many  forms  of  tasteful  amuse 
ments,  for  some  desultory  reading,  and  much  undetected  and 
unproductive  reverie,  I  gratefully  acknowledge.  But  for 
studies  out  of  the  law,  —  studies,  properly  so  described,  either 
recondite  or  elegant,  and  still  more  for  the  habit  and  the 
faculty  of  literary  writing,  —  they  are  too  brief  and  too  inter 
rupted  ;  gifts,  too  often,  to  a  spirit  and  a  frame  too  much 
worn  or  depressed  or  occupied,  to  employ  or  appreciate  them. 


1845-1849.1 


VACATIONS."  199 


"  It  was  in  such  moments,  gathered  of  many  years,  that 
these  papers  were  written.  They  are  fruits,  often,  or  always, 
1  harsh  and  crude,'  of  a  lawyer's  vacations.  They  stand  in 
need,  therefore,  of  every  degree  of  indulgence ;  and  I  think  I 
could  hardly  have  allowed  myself  to  produce  them  at  all,  if  I 
had  not  been  willing  that  others  should  know  that  the  time 
which  I  have  withheld  from  society,  from  the  pursuit  of 
wealth,  from  pleasure,  and  latterly  from  public  affairs,  has  not 
been  idle  or  misspent ;  non  otiosa  vita  ;  nee  desidiosa  occupa- 
tio." 


200 


MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII 


CHAPTER  VII. 

1850. 

Change  of  Partnership  —  Voyage  to  Europe — Letters  to  Mrs. 
Choate  —  Journal. 

IN  1849  Mr.  Choate  terminated  his  professional  con 
nection  with  B.  F.  Crowninshield,  Esq.  It  had  lasted 
for  fifteen  years,  with  a  confidence  so  entire  and  un 
broken,  that  during  the  whole  time  no  formal  division 
of  the  income  of  the  office  was  ever  made,  nor  had 
there  arisen  between  them,  on  this  account,  the  slight 
est  disagreement.  He  now  took  into  partnership  his 
son-in-law,  Joseph  M.  Bell,  Esq.,  and  removed  from 
Court  Street  to  7-J  Tremont  Row,  a  quarter  then  nearly 
unoccupied  by  members  of  the  profession.  Here  he 
remained  till  the  autumn  of  1856,  when  he  again  re 
moved  to  more  commodious  rooms  in  a  new  building 
in  Court  Street. 

In  the  summer  of  1850,  he  gratified  a  long-cherished 
wish  by  a  voyage  to  Europe.  So  constant  had  been 
his  occupation,  so  unremitting  his  devotion  to  the  law, 
hardly  allowing  him  a  week's  vacation  during  the  year, 
that,  at  last,  the  strain  became  too  great,  and  he  felt 
compelled  to  take  a  longer  rest  than  would  be  possible 
at  home.  He  sailed  in  the  Steamship  Canada  on  the 
29th  of  June,  in  company  with  his  brother-in-law,  Hon. 
Joseph  Bell.  They  visited  England,  Belgium,  France, 


1850.1 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.    CHOATE.  201 


a  part  of  Germany  and  Switzerland,  and  returned 
home  in  September.  Fortunately,  he  kept  a  brief 
journal,  which,  with  a  few  letters,  will  indicate  the  ob 
jects  which  proved  most  attractive  to  him.  He  was 
kindly  received  in  England  by  those  to  whom  he  had 
letters,  and,  during  the  few  weeks  he  was  in  the  coun 
try,  saw  as  much  as  possible  of  English  life,  and  of 
interesting  places. 

To  MRS.  CHOATE. 

"  June  30,  1850.     12  o'clock.    At  Sea. 

"DEAR  H.,  —  We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  run  so  far, 
and  are  to  reach  Halifax  at  night,  —  say  six  to  ten.  I  do 
not  suppose  I  have  been  sea-sick,  but  I  have  had  that  head 
ache  and  sickness  which  usually  follows  a  very  hard  trial,  and 
have  just  got  out  of  my  berth,  to  which  I  had  retreated  igno- 
miniously  from  the  breakfast-table.  After  I  get  wholly  over 
this,  I  hope  I  shall  be  better  than  ever.  So  far  I  don't  regret 
coming,  but  oh!  take  care  of  every  thing,  —  the  house, —  the 
books,  —  your  own  health  and  happiness.  .  .  .  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  am  scarcely  able  to  write  more,  but  with  best,  best, 
best  love,  I  go  again  to  my  berth.  Mr.  Bell  is  writing  at  my 
side,  and  grows  better  every  moment.  This  letter  I  shall 
mail  at  Halifax,  —  where  I  shall  not  land,  however,  as  we 
touch  in  the  night.  God  bless  you  all.  Farewell  again." 


To  MRS.  CHOATE. 

"  LIVERPOOL,  7th  and  8th  July,  1850. 

"DEAR  H.  AND  DEAR  CHILDREN,  —  We  arrived  here 
yesterday,  7th  July,  Sunday  morning,  at  about  eight  o'clock, 
and  I  am  quite  comfortably  set  down  at  the  Waterloo  Hotel, 
—  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  Yesterday,  Sunday,  after 
breakfasting  upon  honey,  delicious  strawberries,  &c.,  &c.,  I  went 
to  church,  —  St.  George's,  —  and  heard  the  best  church  service 
music  I  ever  heard,  and  then  tried  to  rest.  To-day  Mr.  Bell 
and  I  have  been  running  all  over  Liverpool,  and  to-morrow 
we  go  to  London.  Most  of  the  passage  over  I  was  very  sick. 
Two  days  I  lay  still  in  my  berth ;  the  rest  of  the  time  I  crept 


202  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

about,  —  rather  low.  But  the  whole  voyage  was  very  pleas 
ant  and  very  prosperous,  and,  I  suppose,  at  no  period  danger 
ous.  One  vast  and  grim  iceberg  we  saw,  —  larger  than  the 
whole  block  of  buildings  composing  Park  Street,  —  and  I  saw 
the  spouting  of  whales,  but  no  whales  themselves.  The  tran 
sition,  yesterday,  from  a  rocking  ship  and  all  the  smells  of 
the  sea  to  the  hotel,  was  sweet  indeed.  I  don't  know  how  I 
shall  like  England,  —  and  how  I  shall  stay  till  October. 
Sometimes  my  heart  droops.  But  our  course  will  be  this,  — 
to  stay  now  a  fortnight  in  London,  then  go  a  fortnight  to  the 
Continent,  and  then  spend  the  whole  of  the  rest  of  our  time 
in  England  and  Scotland.  More  of  all  this  we  shall  learn 
to-morrow,  or  soon,  at  London.  .  .  .  My  heart  swells  to  think 
of  you  all,  and  of  my  dear,  poor  library.  Take  good  care  of 
that.  Write  every  thing  to  me.  .  .  .  My  heart  is  at  home. 
Miss  G.  got  along  very  well, — a  little  pale  and  sad.  All 
England  is  in  mourning  for  Sir  R.  Peel.  How  awful !  One 
of  my  letters  was  to  him,  whom  I  am  never  to  see.  I  have 
lived  so  much  at  home,  that  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  go  along 
—  or  go  alone.  But  if  we  all  meet  again,  what  signifies  it? 
Write  by  every  boat.  .  .  .  Tell  the  news  —  the  news.  Re 
member  I  can  give  you  no  idea  by  letters  of  all  I  see,  but  if 
I  come  home  you  shall  hear  of  '  My  Lord,  Sir  Harry  and  the 
Captain '  till  you  are  tired.  Good-by,  good-by.  It  is  near 
three.  Mr.  B.  and  I  dine  at  that  hour.  Bless  you  —  bless 
you." 


To  MRS.  CHOATE. 

"  LONDON,  Friday,-  July  12. 

"DEAR  H.  AND  DEAR  CHILDREN,  —  We  are  in  London 
you  see,  —  at  Fenton's  Hotel,  St.  James's  Street,  and  very 
pleasantly  off  for  rooms  and  all  things.  I  have  not  yet  de 
livered  my  letters,  but  we  have  been  everywhere  and  walked 
so  much,  and  seen  so  much,  that  I  am  to-day  almost  beat  out. 
.  .  .  Thus  far  I  have  stopped  nowhere,  examined  nothing, 
seen  nobody,  but  just  wandered,  wandered  everywhere, — 
floating  on  a  succession  of  memories,  reveries,  dreams  of  Lon 
don.  ...  I  think  we  shall  hurry  to  the  Continent  sooner  than 
we  intended,  perhaps  in  a  week.  This  will  depend  on  how 
our  London  occupations  hold  out.  I  cannot  particularize,  but 
thus  far,  London,  England,  exceed  in  interest  all  I  had  ex 
pected.  From  Liverpool  across,  all  is  a  garden,  —  green 


1850.]  LETTERS  TO    MRS.   CHOATE.  203 

fields,  woods,  cottages,  as  in  pictures,  —  here  and  there  old 
Gothic  spires,  towers,  and  every  other  picturesque  and  foreign- 
looking  aspect.  The  country  is  a  deep  dark  green  ;  the  build 
ings  look  as  in  engravings  and  pictures,  and  all  things  so 
strangely  mixed  of  reality  and  imagination  that  I  have  not 
been  able  to  satisfy  myself  whether  I  am  asleep  or  awake. 
But  London  !  —  the  very  first  afternoon  after  riding  two  hun 
dred  miles,  we  rushed  into  St.  James's  Park,  —  a  large,  beau 
tiful  opening,  —  saw  Buckingham  Palace,  the  Queen's  city 
residence,  —  went  to  Westminster  Abbey,  whose  bell  was 
tolling  for  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Cambridge, —  went  to 
the  Thames  and  looked  from  Westminster  Bridge  towards 
St.  Paul's,  whose  dome  hung  like  a  balloon  in  the  sky.  Next 
morning  I  rose  at  six,  and  before  eight  had  seen  Charing 
Cross,  —  the  Strand,  —  Temple  Barr  an  arch  across  it  on 
which  traitors'  heads  were  suspended  or  fixed,  —  Fleet  Street, 
where  Sam  Johnson  used  to  walk  and  suffer,  —  St.  Dunstan's 
church,  of  which  I  think  we  read  in  the  '  Fortunes  of  Nigel,' — 
and  none  can  tell  what  not.  Last  evening  I  went  to  the 
opera  and  heard,  in  the  '  Tempest,'  Sontag  and  Lablache,  and, 
in  'Anna  Bolena.'  Pasta,  —  the  most  magnificent  theatre,  audi 
ence,  music,  I  ever  heard  or  saw.  Yet  Sontag  and  Pasta,  es 
pecially  Pasta,  are  past  their  greatest  reputation.  ...  I  am 
quite  well.  I  die,  when  I  think  how  you  and  the  girls  would 
enjoy  all.  Bless  you.  Good-by.  R.  C." 


To  MRS.  CHOATE. 

"  LONDON,  Friday,  July  18. 

"DEAR  H.  AND  DEAR  CHILDREN, —  We  are  to  start  to 
day  for  Paris  and  our  tour  of  the  Continent.  We  shall  get 
to  Paris  to-morrow  eve,  and  thence  our  course  will  be  guided 
by  circumstances.  But  we  expect  to  be  here  again  by  the 
middle  or  last  of  August,  to  renew  our  exploration  of  Eng 
land  and  Scotland.  Thus  far,  except  that  I  am  tired  to  death 
of  seeing  sights  and  persons,  and  late  hours,  I  have  been  very 
well.  One  day  of  partial  sick-headache  is  all  I  have  had  yet. 
But  the  fatigue  of  a  day,  and  of  a  week  of  mere  sight-seeing 
is  extreme,  though  not  like  that  of  business,  —  and  the  late 
hours  of  this  city,  to  me,  who  sometimes  used  to  lose  myself 
as  early  as  nine  or  ten,  are  no  joke.  I  have  not  more  than 
three  times  been  in  bed  till  twelve  or  one,  and  up  again  at 


204  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

seven  or  eight.  It  is  now  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Ex 
pecting  to  come  back  to  London  so  soon,  I  have  not  tried  to 
see  it  all,  but  have  found  it  growing  daily  on  my  hands.  We 
attended  church  at  the  Foundling  Hospital  last  Sunday, 
where  some  five  hundred  to  one  thousand  charity  children,  in 
uniform  dress,  performed  the  responses.  The  organ  was 
Handel's  own,  and  the  sight  and  the  music,  and  the  march  of 
the  children  to  their  dinner  were  most  pleasant  to  see  and 
hear.  I  have  been  as  much  amazed  at  the  British  Museum 
as  at  any  thing.  It  is  a  vast  building,  one  part  of  which, 
divided  into  a  great  number  of  departments,  is  full  of  all 
manner  of  curiosities,  —  statuary,  antiquities,  specimens  of 
natural  history,  every  thing,  —  and  the  other  is  the  transcen 
dent  Library.  This  last  I  have  spent  much  time  in.  The 
catalogue  alone  fills  two  hundred  or  three  hundred  volumes. 
The  rooms  are  wide,  high,  of  the  size  of  Faneuil  Hall  al 
most,  and  lined  with  books  to  the  ceiling.  One  single  room 
is  three  hundred  feet  long,  and  full.  The  Temple  is  a  most 
sweet  spot  too,  —  a  sort  of  college,  enclosing  a  beautiful 
large  area  or  garden,  which  runs  to,  and  along,  the  Thames, 
secluded  and  still  in  the  heart  of  the  greatest  city  of  earth. 
There  Nigel  was,  before  returning  to  Alsatia. 

"  We  dined  at  Mr.  Lawrence's  pleasantly,  and  I  spent  a 
delightful  evening  at  Mr.  Bunsen's,  the  Prussian  minister. 
The  house  belongs  to  his  government,  and  is  a  palace ;  rooms 
large  and  high.  It  was  not  a  large  party,  —  chiefly  for 
music,  which  was  so  so,  Prussian  chiefly,  by  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  of  the  party.  I  have  been  at  Lord  Ashburton's,  Lord 
Lonsdale's,  and  Mr.  Macaulay's,  and  am  to  go  to  Lord  Ash- 
burton's  in  Devonshire,  when  we  come  back.  The  deaths  of 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester  and  Sir  R.  Peel,  and  the  lateness  of 
the  season,  somewhat  check  the  course  of  mere  society  ;  but 
I  have  been  most  politely  received,  and  more  than  I  expected 
gratified  by  the  mere  personnel  of  London.  Lord  Ashbur 
ton's  house  is  a  palace  too,  full  of  pictures,  though  all  in 
confusion  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  his  summer  seat. 
The  country  is  the  grand  passion  of  such  persons.  Mr. 
Macaulay  told  me  they  would  sell  any  house  they  own  in 
town  for  its  money  value,  but  their  country  seats  nothing  could 
take  from  them.  ...  I  wish  J.  would  ascertain  the  latest 
day  to  which  my  causes  in  the  S.  J.  C.  can  be  postponed,  and 
write  very  particularly  which  must  come  on,  and  at  what 
times,  doiug  his  best  to  have  all  go  over  till  October,  if  pos 
sible. 


1850.]  LETTERS  TO  MRS.  CHOATE.  205 

"  The  confession  of  Professor  Webster  has  just  arrived. 
The  cause  is  as  well  known  here  as  there.  It  of  course  can 
not  save  him.1  Mr.  Coolidjze  has  helped  us  to  a  capital 
servant,  and  was  most  polite  and  kind  ;  so  are  all  from  whom 
we  had  any  right  to  look  for  any  thing.  And  yet  if  I  were 
asked  if  I  have  ever  been  as  happy  as  I  am  every  day  and 
hour  at  home,  at  talk  with  you  all,  in  my  poor  dear  library,  I 
could  not  truly  say  I  have.  But  even  home  will  be,  I  hope, 
the  pleasauter  for  the  journey. 

"  Good-by,  all  dear  ones.  We  go  to  Dover  to-night,  start 
ing  at  one.  It  draws  near  to  breakfast,  and  I  must  go  to 
packing.  Bless  you  all.  Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  B.  and  all 
inquirers.  R.  C." 


To  MRS.  CHOATE. 

"  PARIS,  Thursday,  24th  July. 

"DEAR  H.,  —  I  was  delighted  to  get  your  letter  yesterday, 
though  struck  speechless  to  learn  at  the  moment  of  receiving 
it  from  the  banker,  that  President  Taylor  is  dead.  I  hardly 
credit  it  yet,  though  it  is  as  certain  as  it  is  surprising.  Better 
for  him  perhaps,  but  what  an  overthrow  of  others,  —  the 
cabinet,  the  party,  and  all  things. 

"  We  got  here  Saturday  night,  and  have  been  —  I  have  — 
in  a  real  dream  ever  since.  Nothing  yet  seen  is  in  the  least 
degree  to  be  compared  with  Paris,  for  every  species  of  in 
terest.  Every  spot  of  which  you  read  in  the  history  of  the 
revolution  and  the  times  of  Napoleon,  over  and  above  all  that 
belongs  to  it  historically,  is  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful 
and  more  showy  than  I  had  dreamed.  I  saw  the  Tuileries 
by  moonlight,  Saturday  evening,  from  the  garden  of  the  Tuil 
eries.  This  garden  —  I  should  think  it  larger,  with  the 
Champs  Elysees  certainly,  than  a  dozen  of  our  Commons  — 
is  a  delightful  wood,  with  paths,  fountains,  statues,  busts,  at 
every  turn,  —  quiet,  though  a  million  of  people  seemed  walk 
ing  in  it,  with  soldiers  here  and  there  to  keep  order.  It 
stretches  along  from  the  Tuileries  to  a  clearing  called  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  an  open  area  where  are  fountains,  and 
the  great  Egyptian  obelisk.  Then  you  reach  the  Champs 
Elysees,  also  wooded,  not  so  close  or  quiet,  —  then  come 

1  It  is  understood  that  Mr.  Choate  was  solicited  to  defend  Dr.  Web 
ster,  but,  for  reasons  which  he  judged  satisfactory,  declined. 


206  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

to  the  Arch  of  Triumph,  a  prodigious  structure  on  which 
are  inscribed  the  names  of  Napoleon's  victories.  .  .  .  Notre 
Dame  is  a  majestic  old  church,  500  or  1000  years  old,  as 
grand  as  Westminster  Abbey  —  and  the  Madeleine  a  glori 
ous  new  Greek  Temple  church.  .  .  .  We  went  yesterday  to 
Versailles,  the  mo>t  striking  spot  of  earth,  out  of  Rome, — 
one  enormous  palace,  full  of  innumerable  great  rooms,  halls, 
museums,  full  of  statues  and  pictures.  We  were  in  the  bed 
room  and  boudoir  of  Marie  Antoinette,  and  Louis  XVI.,  not 
usually  opened.  The  most  striking  place  I  have  seen,  of 
which  I  never  had  heard,  is  a  beautiful  chapel  built  over  the 
spot  where  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  were  first 
privately  buried.  There  they  lay  21  years  and  then  were 
removed  to  St  Denis,  but  then  this  chapel  was  built.  It  has 
two  groups,  —  the  king,  an  angel  supporting  him,  and  the 
queen,  similarly  supported,  —  in  marble.  I  touched  the  place 
where  they  were  buried.  We  start  to-morrow  lor  Brussels, 
Cologne,  the  Rhine  and  Switzerland.  —  Best,  best  love  to 
all.  R.  C." 

"  Take  care  of  my  library,  —  dearer  than  the  Bibliotheque 
du  Itoi,  —  though  smaller !  " 


JOURNAL  OF  MR.  CHOATB. 

"Saturday,  29th  June,  1850. 
"  Ox  BOARD  THE  CANADA. 

"  I  never  promised  myself  nor  any  one  else  to  attempt 
a  diary  of  any  part  of  the  journey  on  which  I  have  set  out, 
still  less  of  the  first,  most  unpleasant,  and  most  unvaried, 
part  of  it,  —  the  voyage.  But  these  hours,  too,  must  be 
arrested  and  put  to  use.  These  days  also  are  each  a  life. 
'  Let  me  be  taught  to  number  them  then  '  —  lest,  seeking 
health,  I  find  idleness,  ennui,  loss  of  interest  —  more  than  the 
allotted  and  uncontrollable  influence  of  time,  on  the  faculties 
and  the  curiosity. 

"  These  affectionate  aids,  too,  of  my  wife  and  daughters  — 
pen,  ink,  and  beautiful  paper  —  at  once  suggest  and  prescribe 
some  use  of  them.  Such  a  claim,  now  less  than  ever,  would 
I  disallow. 

*•  So  1  will  try  to  make  the  briefest  record  of  the  barren 
outward  time,  uud  try  also  to  set  mvselt  to  some  daily  task 


1850.]      JOURNAL— ON  BOARD   THE   CANADA.  207 

of  profit.  My  first  three  days,  Wednesday,  Thursday,  and 
Friday,  were  grasped  from  me  by  a  sick-headache  of  the 
Court  House,  aggravated,  changed,  by  the  sickness  of  the  sea. 
The  first  day  and  night  and  the  second  day  till  after  dinner 
were  one  fearful  looking-for  of  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
my  last  laborious  fortnight.  Ship  or  shore,  I  should  have 
had  it.  It  came,  is  gone,  and  for  the  first  time,  to-day,  I  feel 
like  myself,  arid  to  be  well,  I  hope,  for  a  month  more. 

"  Meantime  we  have  run  up  the  New  England  coast, 
touched  at  Halifax,  and  are  coming  fast  abreast  of  our  last 
land,  —  Cape  Race.  They  expect  to  pass  it  to-day  at  6  P.M., 
and  the  east  wind  and  incumbent  fog  announce  the  vicinity  of 
the  inhospitable  coast  and  the  Great  Bank.  I  understand  the 
passage  of  Cape  Race  is  reckoned  the  last  peril  of  the  voy 
age,  at  this  season  —  till  we  make  the  Irish  shores.  We  all 
share  the  anxiety  and  appreciate  the  vigilance  of  the  pilotage, 
which  is  on  the  look-out  for  this  crisis.  Under  the  circum 
stances,  it  infers  little  danger  at  least.  Thus  far,  till  this 
morning,  day  and  night  have  been  bright.  Sun,  moon,  and 
stars  have  been  ours, —  and  the  wind  fair  and  fresh.  We 
have  generally  carried  sail,  often  studding  sails.  The  sea  has 
been  smooth  too,  for  ocean ;  yet  breathing  ever,  —  life-full, 
playing  with  us,  —  the  serene  face  of  waves  smiling  on  us. 
To-day,  is  some  change.  Wind  east ;  —  dead  ahead,  —  a 
low,  cold,  damp  fog,  brooding  for  ever  and  for  ever  in  these 
regions  of  the  meeting  of  the  warm  and  cold  tides.  On  we 
go  still,  every  sail  furled  close  —  eleven  miles  an  hour.  I 
remark  our  northing,  in  the  diminished  power  of  the  clearest 
sunbeam  and  in  the  cool  air,  and  our  easting  in  the  loss  of 
my  watch's  time.  The  sun  comes  to  the  meridian  an  hour 
sooner  than  in  Boston.  We  are  taking  our  meridian  lunch, 
while  our  dear  friends  hear  their  parlor  and  kitchen  clocks 
strike  eleven.  For  the  rest,  it  is  a  vast  sentient  image  of 
water  all  around.  We  have  seen  three  or  four  sail  daily,  — 
parcel  of  the  trade  of  England  to  her  northern  colonies  ;  — ^ 
and  a  mackerel  fisherman  or  two  ;  and  with  these  exceptions, 
we  are  alone  in  the  desert. 

"  Our  ship  is  a  man-of-war,  for  size,  quiet,  and  discipline  ; 
the  passengers  a  well-behaved  general  set ;  my  accommoda 
tions  excellent.  Hcec  hactenus. 

"  I  have  come  away  without  a  book  but  the  Bible  and 
Prayer-Book  and  '  Daily  Food/  and  I  sigh  for  the  sweet 
luxuries  of  my  little  library  (UXQOV  re  qpJLor  re. 


208  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

"  Yet  am  I  resolved  not  to  waste  this  week  '  in  ineptiisj 
and  I  mean  to  know  more  at  the  end  of  it  than  I  know  now. 
I  will  commit  one  morsel  in  the  '  Daily  Food '  daily,  and 
have  to-day,  that  of  2(Jth  June.  To  this,  I  mean  to  add  a 
page  at  least  of  French,  and  two  pages  of  *  Half-hours  with 
Best  Authors,'  with  Collectanea,  lit  passim. 

"Liverpool. — Alas!  on  that  very  Saturday  evening,  my 
real  sea-sickness  set  in,  pursued  me  till  Thursday,  then  fol 
lowed  languor,  restlessness,  and  all  the  unprofitable  and  un 
availing  resolving  of  such  a  state  of  the  mind  left  to  itself  on 
board  a  vessel.  The  result  is,  that  the  rest  of  my  voyage 
was  lost,  except  so  far  as  it  has  quite  probably  prepared  me 
for  better  health  and  fresher  sensations  on  shore. 

"  We  passed  Cape  Race  on  Saturday  evening  in  thick  fog, 
and  very  close,  nearer  I  suppose  to  a  point  of  it,  —  the  pro 
jecting  termination  of  a  cove,  into  which  we  ran,  which  we 
coasted,  and  out  of  which  we  had  to  steer  by  a  total  change 
of  course,  —  nearer  than  we  designed.  To  see  it,  for  de 
parture,  was  indispensable  almost,  and  that  done  we  steered 
assured  and  direct  towards  Cape  Clear  in  Ireland.  Then 
followed  two  or  three  days  of  fog  and  one  or  two  more  of  a 
quite  rough  sea.  But  we  have  had  no  gale  of  wind,  and  on 
Friday  night  we  entered  the  Irish  Channel  and  ascended  it 
till  about  5  P.M.,  by  science  only,  when  we  saw  the  first  laud 
since  our  departure  one  week  before  from  the  S.  E.  cape  of 
Newfoundland.  What  we  saw  were  islands  on  the  coast 
of  Wales,  or  mountains  of  Wales,  or  both.  We  came  up 
toward  Liverpool  as  far  as  the  bar  would  permit,  last  eve, 
anchored  or  waited  for  tide,  and  came  to  our  dock  at  about 
8  this  morning. 

"  On  Sunday  afternoon,  June  30th,  we  were  called  on  deck 
to  see  an  iceberg.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  cold,  gross 
fog  incumbent,  a  dark  night  at  hand,  the  steamer  urging  for 
ward  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour.  The  iceberg  lay 
slowly  floating,  I  suppose  one-fourth  of  a  mile  off,  getting 
astern,  and  was  a  grand  and  startling  image  certainly.  It 
might  be  in  some  places  fifty,  in  some  one  hundred  feet  from 
the  water,  and  perhaps  three  hundred  to  five  hundred  yards 
long,  looking  like  a  section  of  a  mountain-top  severed  horizon 
tally,  but  ice,  ice,  suggesting  its  voyage  of  thousands  of  miles 
perhaps,  and  its  growth  of  a  thousand  years,  giving  us  to  look 
directly  on  the  terrible  North,  present  to  us  in  a  form  of  real 
danger.  The  Captain  professed  no  fears  from  such  causes, 


1850.]          JOURNAL  — ON  BOAKD   THE   CANADA.          209 

and  under  the  admirable  vigilance  of  his  command,  I  suppose 
there  was  not  much.  One  day  we  saw  porpoises,  as  in  the 
Sound,  and  I  saw  twice  vast  sheets  of  water  thrown  up  by 
the  spouting  of  the  whale,  although  himself  I  did  not  see. 

"  Enough.  The  voyage  is  over.  Brief,  prosperous,  yet 
tedious.  And  now  I  am  to  address  myself  to  the  business  of 
my  journey.  I  have  come  to  the  Waterloo  House,  to  a 
delicious  breakfast,  including  honey,  strawberries — a  snug, 
clean  room  and  the  luxuries  of  purification  and  rest.  I  have 
traversed  a  street  or  two,  enough  to  recognize  the  Old  World 
I  am  in.  I  am  beginning  to  admit  and  feel  the  impression  of 
England.  The  high  latitude,  deep  green  of  tree  and  land, 
clouded  sky,  cool,  damp  air ;  the  plain,  massive,  and  enduring 
construction  of  fort,  dock,  store  and  houses,  dark,  large,  brick 
or  stone,  instantaneously  strike.  Thus  far  it  seems  gloomy, 
heavy,  yet  rich,  strong,  deep,  a  product  of  ages  for  ages. 
Yet  I  have  not  looked  at  any  individual  specimen  of  antiquity, 
grandeur,  power,  or  grace.  I  have  attended  service  at  St. 
George's  for  want  of  knowing  where  to  go.  The  music  was 
admirable,  forming  a  larger  part  than  in  the  American  Epis 
copal  Service,  and  performed  divinely.  The  sermon  was 
light  and  the  delivery  cold,  sing-song,  on  the  character  of 
David. 

"  And  now  to  some  plan  of  time  and  movement  for  England. 
Before  breakfast  I  shall  walk 'at  least  an  hour  observantly, 
and  on  returning  jot  down  any  thing  worth  it.  This  hour 
is  for  exercise  however.  I  mean  next  to  read  every  day  a 
passage  in  the  Bible,  a  passage  in  the  Old  and  in  the  New 
Testament,  beginning  each,  and  to  commit  my  '  Daily  Food.' 
Then,  I  must  carefully  look  at  the  papers,  for  the  purpose  of 
thoroughly  mastering  the  actual  English  and  European  public 
and  daily  life,  and  this  will  require  jotting  down,  the  debates, 
the  votes,  chiefly.  Then  I  must  get,  say  half  an  hour  a  day, 
for  Greek  and  Latin  and  elegant  English.  For  this  purpose, 
I  must  get  me  an  Odyssey  and  Crusius,  and  a  Sallust.  and 
some  single  book  of  poems  or  prose,  say  Wordsworth.  This, 
lest  taste  should  sleep  and  die,  for  which  no  compensations 
shall  pay ! 

"  For  all  the  rest,  I  mean  to  give  it  heartily,  variously,  to 
what  travel  can  teach,  —  men  —  opinions  —  places,  —  with 
great  effort  to  be  up  to  my  real  powers  of  acquiring  and  im 
parting.  This  journey  shall  not  leave  me  where  it  finds  me. 

14 


210  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

Better,  stronger,  knowing  more.  One  page  of  some  law-book 
daily,  I  shall  read.  That  I  must  select  to-morrow  too. 

"  Friday,  1 2th  July.  —  I  must  write  less,  but  more  regu 
larly,  or  the  idea  of  a  journal  must  be  abandoned.  Tuesday 
I  came  to  London,  a  beautiful  day,  through  a  beautiful  land, 
leaving  an  image,  a  succession  of  images,  ineffaceable.  That 
which  strikes  most  is  the  universal  cultivation,  the  deep,  live, 
fresh  green  on  all  things,  the  hedge-fences,  the  cottages  small 
and  brick,  the  absence  of  barns,  and  the  stacks  of* hay  out  of 
doors,  the  excellent  station  constructions,  the  Gothic  spires 
and  castles  here  and  there  among  trees,  identifying  the  scene 
and  telling  something  of  the  story.  The  railroad  was  less 
smooth  than  the  Lowell,  at  least  the  car  ran  less  smoothly. 
Here  and  there  women  were  at  work  in  the  fields.  I  know 
not  how  rich  was  the  land.  I  saw  no,  or  not  much,  waste,  and 
the  main  aspect  was  of  a  nearly  universal  and  expensive 
culture. 

"  We  passed  through  Tarn  worth,  and  saw  at  a  distance  a 
flag  at  half-mast  from  a  tower.  It  was  the  day  of  Sir  Robert 
Peel's  funeral,  of  which,  however,  we  saw  nothing.  Tuesday 
eve,  Wednesday,  and  yesterday  I  rambled,  and  to-day  have 
lain  still.  I  ran  this  way  and  that,  like  a  boy,  seeking  every 
where  and  iindiug  everywhere  some  name  and  place  made 
classical  by  English  literary  or  general  history,  and  have 
brought  off  a  general,  vague,  yet  grand  impression  of  Lon 
don,  with  no  particulars  of  knowledge.  The  parks  are  sweet 
spots,  quiet  and  airy,  but  plain.  Green  Park,  at  least,  was 
partially  dotted  by  flocks  of  sheep.  Buckingham  Palace, 
name  apart,  does  not  strike  much  more  than  the  Capitol  or 
President's  house.  Westminster  Abbey  externally  is  sublime. 
The  new  Parliament  House  will  be  showy. 

"  I  heard  a  cause  partially  opened  to  a  committee  of  Lords  ; 
another  partially  argued  to  the  jury  in  the  Exchequer ;  and 
another  partially  argued  to  the  Lord  Commissioners.  The 
A.  G.  [Attorney-general]  Jervis,  [Sir  John  Jervis,]  and  Mr. 
Cockburn,  [Alexander  E.  Cockburn,]  open  respectively  for 
and  versus  Pate,  for  striking  the  Queen.  There  was  no  occa 
sion  for  much  exertion  or  display,  and'  there  was  nothing  of 
either.  Mr.  Cockburn  had  the  manner  of  Franklin  Dexter 
before  the  committee.  Mr.  Marten  seemed  animated  and 
direct  in  a  little  Exchequer  jury  cause.  Pate  would  have 
been  acquitted  in  Massachusetts.  The  English  rule  is, — 
knowledge,  or  want  of  it,  that  the  act  is  wrong.  The  prison- 


1850.]  JOURNAL  —  COURTS.  211 

er's  counsel,  in  my  judgment,  gave  up  his  case  by  conceding ; 
he  feared  he  should  fail.  I  thought  and  believed  he  might 
have  saved  him.  The  chief  judge  presiding,  Alderson,  [Sir 
E.  PI.  Alderson,]  offended  me.  He  is  quick,  asks  many  ques 
tions,  sought  unfavorable  replies,  repeats  what  he  puts  down 
as  the  answer,  abridged  and  inadequate.  The  whole  trial 
smacked  of  a  judiciary,  whose  members,  bench  and  bar, 
expect  promotion  from  the  Crown.  Their  doctrine  of  in 
sanity  is  scandalous.  Their  treatment  of  medical  evidence, 
and  of  the  informations  of  that  science,  scandalous. 

"  One  thing  struck  me.  All  seemed  to  admit  that  the 
prisoner  was  so  far  insane  as  to  make  whipping  improper ! 
yet  that  he  was  not  so  insane  as  riot  to  be  guilty.  Suppose 
him  tried  for  murder,  how  poor  a  compromise  ! 

"  The  question  on  handwriting  was  '  do  you  believe  it  to  be 
his  ? '  after  asking  for  knowledge.  Opening  the  pleadings  is 
useless,  except  to  the  courts,  and  is  for  the  court.  The  coun 
sel  interrogating  from  a  brief;  leads  in  interrogation  being 
very  much  on  uncontested  matter.  It  saves  time  and  is  not 
quarrelled  with.  The  speaker  is  at  too  great  a  distance  from 
the  jury.  Their  voices  are  uncommonly  pleasant ;  pronuncia 
tion  odd,  affected,  yet  impressing  you  as  that  of  educated 
persons.  Some,  Mr.  Humphry,  Mr.  Cockburn,  occasionally 
hesitated  for  a  word.  All  narrated  dryly ;  not  one  has  in  the 
least  impressed  me  by  point,  force,  language,  power ;  still 
less,  eloquence  or  dignity.  The  wig  is  deadly.  The  Ex 
chequer  Jury  sittings  were  in  Guildhall  as  were  the  C.  C. 
Pleas.  Pate  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey.  The  rooms  are 
small,  —  never  all  full.  Mr.  Byles  was  in  one  ins.  cause  in 
C.  C.  Pleas. 

"  Last  eve,  I  heard  Sontag  and  Lablache  in  La  Tempeta 
and  saw  the  faded  Pasta.  I  returned  late,  and  am  sick  to 
day,  a  little.  Bought  Kiihner's  Edition  of  the  Tusculan 
Questions.  Mr.  Bates  called  and  made  some  provision  for 
our  amusement. 

"  I  read  J^ible,  Prayer-Book,  a  page  of  Bishop  Andrews's 
Prayers,  a  half-dozen  lines  of  Virgil  and  Homer,  and  a  page 
of  Williams's  Law  of  Real  Property." 

THE  CONTINENT. 

"  July  1 9,  Friday.  —  Left  London  for  Folkstone,  whence 
across  to  Boulogne  —  a  cloudy  day  terminating  in  copious  rain 
—  through  which  the  deep  green  of  English  landscape  looked 


212  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

gloomy  and  uniform.  At  Folkstone,  which  is  a  few  miles 
S.  W.  of  Dover,  just  built  up  to  be  a  terminus  point  of 
transit  of  railroad  and  steamboat  line  to  France  found  our  — 
for  the  present  —  last  English  hotel,  clean  bedrooms,  abun 
dance  of  water,  and  all  other  appointments,  and  all  well  ad 
ministered  and  soundly  exacting. 

"  Saturday.  —  We  passed  in  the  steamboat  to  Boulogne, 
breakfasted  at  B.  and  came  to  Paris,  arriving  at  six.  The 
passage  across  the  Channel  was  on  a  foggy,  rainy  morning, 
showing  that  renowned  water  drearily  and  indistinctly,  and  a 
little  darkening  our  first  experience  of  France.  Numerous 
vessels,  from  small  fishermen  of  both  coasts  to  large  merchant 
ships,  were  in  view  however,  and  I  recalled  with  Mr.  Prescott 
the  occasions  when  Roman,  Saxon,  Danish,  and  Dutch  keels 
had  ploughed  it,  the  old  intercourse  of  France  and  Scotland, 
the  voyage  of  Mary,  the  descents  of  the  Henrys  and  Ed 
wards,  and  the  cruise  of  so  many  great  fleets,  in  so  many  and 
such  various  fortunes  of  England  and  France.  Mr.  P.  told 
me  of  Lockhart  who  interested  him  deeply,  thinks  freely, 
despises  the  Bishops,  utters  brilliant  sarcasms,  lives  retired, 
sad,  and  independent.  Deaths  of  the  loved,  the  bad  character 
of  a  living  child,  with  other  unexplained  causes,  are  supposed 
to  cause  it.  He  saw  at  L's.  the  MSS.  of  '  Rob  Roy,'  the  first 
hundred  pages  covered  with  second  thoughts  —  then  all  work 
ing  itself  consummate  by  the  first  effort.  He  related  sar 
casms  of  Rogers,  sneers  at  the  Bishop  of  Oxford.  Wilberforce  ; 
—  the  incredible  touching  and  altering,  by  which  the  historic 
sheet  of  Macuulay  at  last  is  brought  to  its  perfection  ; — the 
great  narrowness  of  all  male  and  female  Church  adherents, — 
the  mendacious  reputation  of  Lord  B.,  telling  an  audience 
at  Harrow,  his  father  and  grandfather  were  educated  there, 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  knowing  better.  By  the  time 
we  were  ready  to  leave  Boulogne  the  sun  came  out,  and  our 
ride  to  Paris  was  lighted  by  a  sweet,  glowing  summer's  day. 
I  must  say  I  was  delighted  with  the  country.  Part  of  our 
way  was  quite  on  the  seashore,  as  far  as  Abbeville,  thence 
more  inland,  and  the  last  three  to  five  hours  lay  through 
whole  prairies  of  fields  ripe  with  wheat.  Till  now  I  had  no 
conception  of  the  wheat  culture  of  France,  nor  of  the  affluent 
and  happy  aspect  with  which  the  wheat  harvest,  when  nod 
ding,  yellow,  over  level  plains,  up  the  sides  and  to  the  tops  of 
hills,  through  patches  of  trees,  five  miles  to  six  or  seven  in 
extent  on  each  side,  for  a  distance  of  fifty  miles,  robes  a 


1850.]  JOURNAL  —  PARIS.  213 

country.  Why,  France,  if  all  like  this,  could  feed  Europe. 
A  few  vineyards  were  interspersed  here  and  there  ;  chateaux 
in  the  distance  and  the  towers  of  cathedrals,  with  men  and 
women  at  work  in  the  fields,  completed  the  scene.  Ah.  how 
absurd,  yet  common,  to  think  of  Paris  only  as  France,  and 
the  Deputies  only  as  Paris.  How  English  media  refract  and 
tinge.  The  cars  were  the  best  I  ever  saw,  and  the  whole 
railroad  administration,  rapid  and  in  all  things  excellent.  I 
am  come  to  Hotel  Canterbury.  Of  Paris  from  the  station  I 
avoided  seeing  much,  but  could  not  wholly  lose  the  narrow 
street  and  vast  height  of  houses  and  want  of  wealth  in  shop- 
windows.  After  dinner,  at  nine  in  the  evening,  by  moonlight, 
I  first  saw  Paris.  I  walked  down  through  the  Place  Ven- 
dome,  looked  on  the  column  cast  of  cannon,  towering  gloomy, 
grim,  storied,  surmounted  by  Napoleon,  recognized  even  so, 
and  in  three  minutes  stood  in  the  Gardens,  before  the  struct 
ure  of  the  Tuileries.  This  scene,  this  moment,  are  inefface 
able  for  ever  !  Some  soldiers  in  uniform,  with  muskets 
bayouetted,  marched  to  and  fro  near  the  entrance.  Hun 
dreds,  thousands  —  men,  women,  and  children  —  were  walking 
in  the  Garden,  in  paths  beneath  a  wood,  extending,  so  far  as 
I  could  see,  without  limit ;  lights  twinkled  in  it  here  and 
there ;  vases,  statues,  reposed  all  around ;  fountains  were 
playing,  and  before  me  stretched  the  vast  front  of  the  Tuiler 
ies,  the  tricolor  hanging  motionless  on  its  dome,  the  moonlight 
sleeping  peacefully  and  sweetly  on  the  scene  of  so  much 

flory,  so  much  agony  —  a  historic  interest  so  transcendent, 
did  not  go  to  the  Seine,  nor  seek  for  definite  ideas  of  locality, 
or  extent ;  but  gave  myself  to  a  dream  of  France,  '  land  of 
glory  and  love.'  Far,  far  to  the  west,  I  remarked  an  avenue 
extending  indefinitely,  —  along  whose  sides,  at  what  seemed 
an  immense  distance,  twinkled  parallel  lines  of  lights.  I  did 
not  then  know  that  it  ran  to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  —  the 
Obelisk— -  and  thence  on,  on,  becoming  the  Avenue  of  the 
Champs  Ely  sees  —  and  so  to  the  Arch  at  last.  That  1  learned 
the  next  morning. 

<%  2'2d.  —  It  is  now  Monday  morning.  I  have  not  been  out 
to-day  yet.  But  yesterday  I  saw  and  entered  Notre  Dame 
and  the  Madeleine  —  glorious  specimens  of  diverse  styles  — 
pure  Gothic  and  Greek.  Notre  Dame  impresses  as  a  mere 
structure,  as  much  as  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is  cruciform. 
At  the  west  end  rise  two  vast  towers,  lofty,  and  elaborately 
finished  —  telling  of  a  thousand  years.  Between  these  you 


214  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

enter  and  are  in  the  nave.  Thence  you  may  wander  through 
ranges  of  pillars  from  which  the  pure  Gothic  arch  is  spring 
ing,  mark  along  the  sides  the  numerous  chapels  in  recesses, 
observe  the  two  vast  circular  windows  of  the  transept,  and 
look  up  to  the  ceiling  rising  as  a  firmament  above  you.  No 
statues  or  tablets  of  the  dead  are  here.  Pictures  of  sacred 
subjects  on  the  walls,  worshippers  here  and  there,  the  appoint 
ments  of  the  Papal  service,  —  the  grand,  unshared,  unmodified 
character  of  a  mere  cathedral  is  on  it  all.  The  Madeleine  is 
a  beautiful  Greek  temple,  showy  and  noble.  The  Boulevards 
terminate  there  —  thence  running  I  know  not  how  far  —  a 
vast,  broad  street  with  thousands  of  both  sexes  walking, 
sitting  outside  of  cafes,  drinking  coffee,  wine,  &c.,  the  whole 
lined  by  miles  of  shops,  cafes,  and  other  places  of  public 
resort  —  glittering  and  full, 

"  Monday,  '2'2d  July.  —  This  morning  I  am  to  begin  a  more 
detailed  observation  of  Paris." 


"  Basle,  2d  August,  Friday.  —  A  day  of  rain  and  a  head 
ache  compel  or  excuse  my  lying  by  till  to-morrow,  and  so  I 
avail  myself  of  an  undesired  and  unexpected  opportunity  to 
recall  some  of  the  sights  that  have  been  crowded  into  the  last 
fortnight.  Left  Paris  Friday  eve,  July  26,  for  Brussels,  to 
which  point  we  came  to  breakfast  —  visited  Waterloo,  and 
next  morning  started  for  Cologne  where  we  arrived  at  sunset. 
On  Monday  went  to  Bonn  and  passed  the  afternoon  and  night, 

—  making,  however,  an  excursion  to  the   top  of  Drachenfels. 
Thus  far  our  journey  was   by  rail.     The  next  morning  we 
embarked  on  the  Rhine  in  the  steamer  Schiller,  and  ascended 
to  Wiesbaden,  arriving,  by  aid  of  a  quarter  or  half  an  hour  in 
an  omnibus,  at  nine  o'clock.     On  Wednesday  we  came  by  rail 
to  Kehl  opposite  and  four  miles  from  Strasburg,  glancing  at 
Frankfurt,  and  spending  three  hours  at  Heidelberg.     Yester 
day  we  crossed   to  Strasburg, —  visited  the   Cathedral,  and 
came  by  rail  to  Basle  in  season  for  dinner  at  the  table  d'hote. 
And  now  what  from  all  this  ?     I   shall  remember  with  con 
stant  interest   Paris,  and  shall   extend   my  acquaintance  wiih 
the  language,  literature,  and  hi.-tory  of  the  strange  and  beau 
tiful   France.     Besides   what  I  have  already  recorded,  I  at 
tended  a  sitting  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies — an  assembly 
of  good-looking  men  — not  just  then  doing  any  thing  of  interest 

—  most  interesting,  however,  as  the  government,  and  the  ex- 


1850.]  JOURNAL— BELGIUM.  215 

ponent  and  multifarious  representation  of  the  political  and 
social  opinions  and  active  organ  of  a  great  nation.  M.  Ber- 
ryer  I  saw,  and  Eugene  Sue,  and  M.  Mole.  M.  Guizot  I  saw 
afterwards  in  the  steamer  Schiller,  going  up  from  Bonn.  He 
left  the  boat  at  Coblentz.  Two  or  three  deputies  spoke  to  a 
most  freezing  inattention.  They  '  got  the  floor '  in  their  seats, 
then  went  to  the  tribune,  laid  their  MSS.  at  their  side  —  and 
went  to  it  as  we  lecture  at  lyceums.  Great  animation  — 
much  gesture  —  a  constant  rising  inflection  at  the  end  of 
periods  before  the  final  close  of  the  sentence  —  an  occasional 
look  at  the  MSS.  and  pull  at  the  tumbler  of  water  —  some 
pausings  at  the  noise  of  inattention  —  this  is  all  I  could  ap 
preciate.  The  courts  of  law  pleased  me  too.  The  judges  in 
cloaks  or  robes  of  black,  with  capes,  —  quiet,  thoughtful,  and 
dignified  ;  the  advocate  in  a  cloak  and  bare-headed,  debating 
with  animation,  and  no  want  of  dignity  —  the  dress  and  man 
ners  far  better  than  the  English  bar.  The  silk  gown  or  cloak 
is  graceful  and  fit,  and  might  well  have  been  (it  is  too  late 
now)  among  the  costumes  of  our  bar. 

"  This  was  all  I  saw  of  the  mind  of  France  in  political  or 
executive  action.  The  impression  I  brought  from  them  was 
of  great  respect.  In  this  I  can  say  nothing  of  the  opinions  or 
wisdom  of  anybody.  Tbe  chamber  seemed  full  of  energy, 
quickness,  spirit,  capacity.  The  courts  grave,  dignified, 
among  forms,  and  in  halls,  of  age,  solemnity,  and  impressive- 
ness.  Great  French  names  of  jurisprudence  came  to  my 
memory,  and  I  learned  to  feel  new  regard  for  my  own  profes 
sion. 

"  The  rest  of  my  time  I  gave  to  the  storied  spectacles  of 
Paris.  The  Louvre,  a  part  of  which  was  closed  for  repairs, 
leaving  enough  to  amaze  one,  —  such  a  wilderness  of  form, 
color,  posture,  roof,  walls,  pedestals,  alive  with  old  and  modern 
art ;  Versailles,  holding  within  it  the  history  of  the  nation  of 
France,  tracing  in  picture  and  statue  its  eras,  showing  forth 
its  glory,  breathing  and  generating  an  intense  nationality, 
with  here  and  there  a  small  room,  a  boudoir  of  Marie  Antoin 
ette,  or  a  confessional  of  Louis  Sixteenth,  touching  a  softer 
and  sadder  emotion ;  St.  Cloud,  of  which  I  saw  only  the  de 
lightful  exterior,  imperial,  grand ;  the  street  to  Versailles 
through  the  Bois  de  Boulogne ;  the  little  chapel  over  the  first 
burial-place  of  Louis  Sixteenth  and  Marie  Antoinette,  full  of 
deepest  and  saddest  interest ;  the  Luxemburg,  its  deserted 
chamber  of  the  Senate  of  Napoleon  and  the.  Peers  of  the  Res- 


216  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

toration  and  Louis  Philippe's  dynasty,  and  its  glorious  gallery 
of  pictures ;  the  Royal  Library  in  which  I  was  disappointed 
after  the  British  Museum,  but  where  are  some  old  curiosities 
and  a  capital  statue  of  Voltaire;  —  these  are  of  my  banquet 
of  three  days.  I  went  through  the  Garden  of  Plants  too, 
which  we  should  imitate  and  beat  at  Washington  ;  the  Place 
de  Greve,  the  site  of  that  guillotine  ;  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  ; 
the  Pantheon,  disagreeable  as  a  monument  to  the  dead ;  Pere- 
la-Chaise,  which  exceeded  my  expectations,  and  shows  France 
affectionate  and  grateful  and  thoughtful  to  the  loved  and  lost; 
Place  Bastille,  sacred  by  its  column  to  the  Revolution  of  1830, 
—  with  interest,  and  sufficiently. 

"The  cafes  and  cafe  dinners  are  a  strict  Parisian  fact  and 
spectacle  —  cooking,  service,  and  appointments,  arti^tical  as  a 
theatre.  A  dinner  at  the  *  Trois  Freres '  is  to  be  remembered. 
And  so  adieu  to  France.  We  entered  on  that  famous  soil 
again  at  Strasburg  to  find  '  Liberte,  Egalite,  Fraternite,' 
graven  on  every  national  front,  and  to  mark  the  quickness, 
courtesy,  and  skill  with  which  all  things  are  done.  I  made 
the  acquaintance  of  but  one  inhabitant  of  Paris  out  of  the 
hotel,  M.  Bossange,  the  bookseller  in  the  Quai  Voltaire,  polite, 
kind,  and  honest,  of  whom  I  ordered  some  books. 

"  I  have  seen  Paris  with  any  feeling  but  that  of  disappoint 
ment.  I  feel  no  other  at  least,  than  that  which  always  attends 
the  substitution  of  the  actual  spectacle  for  the  imaginary  one 
which  rises  on  the  mind  of  every  reader  of  an  event  or  de 
scription,  and  which,  by  a  thousand  repetitions,  becomes  the 
only  spectacle  which  can  fill  his  mind  full.  I  have  lost  the 
Tuileries,  and  Boulevards,  and  Champs  Elysee?,  and  Seine,  and 
Versailles,  and  St.  Cloud,  of  many  years  of  reading  and  rev 
erie,  —  a  picture  incomplete  in  details,  inaccurate  in  all 
things,  yet  splendid  and  adequate  in  the  eye  of  imagination,  — 
and  have  gained  a  reality  of  ground  and  architecture,  accurate, 
detailed,  splendid,  impressive  —  and  I  sigh  ! 

ki  One  word  is  enough  for  Belgium.  Everywhere  and  in 
stantly  you  are  struck  with  the  vast  level  yet  varied  garden 
of  agriculture,  through  which  you  ride.  Every  inch  at  first 
seems  tilled.  Wheat,  rye,  flax,  everywhere  —  a  wilderness, 
a  prairie,  a  flood  of  cultivation.  You  see,  as  in  France  and 
Germany,  few  people  in  the  fields,  few  cottages.  It  seems  to 
be  tilled  by  night  by  unseen  hands.  I  gave  no  time  to  Brus 
sels,  which  every  guide-book  describes,  but  rode  to  Waterloo 
and  studied  that  locality,  —  a  sweet,  undulating,  vast  wheat- 


1850.]  JOURNAL  — BELGIUM.  217 

field,  a  spot  memorable  and  awful  above  all  I  shall  see  or  have 
seen.  I  have  now  an  indelible  image,  by  the  aid  of  which  I 
can  read  anew  the  story  of  that  day  —  the  last  of  the  battles  ! 
I  retain,  1st,  the  short  line  along  which  the  two  armies  were 
ranged,  say  a  mile  or  a  mile  and  a  half  from  wing  to  wing ; 
2d,  the  narrow  space  of  valley  between  the  two  lines,  the  ar 
tillery  of  either  posted  over  against  that  of  the  other  a  quarter 
or  a  third  of  a  mile  apart ;  3d,  the  inconsiderable,  easy  ascent 
from  the  valley,  up  to  the  British  ridge  ;  4th,  the  sufficiency 
of  the  ridge  to  shelter  from  the  French  artillery ;  5th,  the 
precise  position  and  aspect  of  the  shattered,  pierced,  and  singed 
Hougoumont  guarded  from  artillery  by  its  wood  —  guarded 
in  its  interior  citadel  by  a  brilliant  and  transcendent  courage ; 
6th,  La  Haye  Sainte,  taken,  retaken,  held,  on  right  of  centre, 
from  which  nothing  was  reaped ;  7th,  the  place  of  the  ter 
rific  attack  in  which  Picton  fell,  and  the  place  of  the  later, 
final  attack,  now  obliterated  by  the  mound.  The  plan, 
series  —  attacks  on  Hougoumont  and  La  Haye  Sainte  — 
cannonade  to  prepare  —  charges  of  cavalry  met  by  squares, 
charges  of  infantry  met  by  any  thing.  The  following  years 
undoubtedly  yielded  richer  crops  of  wheat  than  before.  In 
some  places  of  burial,  by  decay,  large  depressions  of  earth 
disclosed  themselves. 

"  I  am  glad  I  did  not  see  enough  of  Liege  to  correct  •  Quen- 
tin  Durward,'  and  I  was  glad  to  leave  Brussels  and  to  come 
upon  Rhenish  Prussia,  and  into  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  all  at 
once.  Everywhere  from  Brussels  to  Cologne,  on  all  practi 
cable  spots,  wheat,  wheat,  and  rye,  ripe  for  the  sickle,  every 
where  the  same  universal  culture,  here  and  there  a  castle  or 
chateau,  or  harnessed  dog,  or  unintelligible  conversation,  re 
minded  me  where  we  were. 

"  I  could  have  wished  to  stay  a  little  at  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
historically  and  actually  striking ;  but  on  we  were  whirled  ; 
the  valley  of  the  'Rhine  opened,  a  vast  plain  with  no  river  yet 
in  sight,  groaning  under  its  wheat  spread  on  all  sides,  and  just 
before  coming  to  the  great  old  gates  of  Cologne,  the  river, 
rapid,  majestic,  flashed  to  sight.  In  half  an  hour  I  was  in 
my  room  at  the  hotel,  and  looked  down  on  the  river  flowing 
at  my  very  feet  within  fifty  yards  of  the  house,  broad  and  free, 
under  his  bridge  of  boats. 

"  From  that  moment  to  this  my  journey  has  been  a  vision 
of  the  Rhine.  I  have  gained  new  images  and  knowledge, 
new  materials  of  memory  and  thought.  The  width,  rapidity, 


218  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

volume,  tone  of  the  river,  exceed  all  my  expectations.  But 
the  aspects  of  its  shores  from  Bonn  to  Coblentz,  and  its  whole 
valley  again  from  Wiesbaden  to  Strasburg  !  —  the  scenery  so 
diverse ;  plain,  hill,  crag,  mountain,  vale ;  the  fields  and 
patches  of  culture,  mainly  of  vine,  but  of  wheat,  too,  and 
apple,  and  all  things,  which  spread  and  brighten  to  the  very 
tops  of  mountains  ;  the  castellated  ruins  —  never  wholly  out 
of  view  ;  —  these  will  abide  for  ever.  The  mere  scenery  is 
nowhere,  except  at  two  points,  perhaps,  —  Coblentz  and  Hei 
delberg,  —  superior  to  the  North  River.  But  the  character 
of  the  agriculture,  the  vine  as  well  as  wheat,  its  spread  over 
every  inch  of  practicable  earth,  carried  as  by  a  nature  to  the 
minutest  and  remotest  vein  of  yielding  earth; 'the  history 
of  the  river, —  the  most  eastern  frontier  of  imperial  Rome, — 
her  encampments  here  and  there,  discernible  still  in  the 
names  of  towns,  and  in  innumerable  works  of  military  or  fine 
art,  —  the  scene  of  so  many  more  recent  strifes  and  glories  ; 
the  ruins  resting  so  grandly  on  so  many  summits,  —  the 
record,  every  one  of  them,  of  a  thousand  years,  —  all  together 
give  it  a  higher  and  different  interest.  I  visited  the  library 
at  Bonn,  —  a  university  to  which  Niebuhr  and  Schlegel  would 
give  fame, —  of  130,000  to  180,000  volumes;  the  tops  of 
Drachenfels,  reminding  one  of  the  view  from  Holyoke  over 
Northampton,  but  pervaded  by  this  high  and  specific  and 
strange  historical  interest;  the  Castle  of  Heidelberg,  restoring 
you,  grimly,  grandly,  the  old  feudal  time,  and  opening  from 
its  mouldering  turrets  a  sweet  and  vast  view  of  the  Necker 
and  the  valley  of  the  Necker  and  the  Rhine  ;  and  the  Cathe 
dral  of  Strasburg,  where  mass  was  performing  and  a  glorious 
organ  was  filling  that  unbounded  interior  with  the  grandest 
and  the  sweetest  of  music,  through  whose  pauses  you  heard 
the  muttered  voice  of  the  priest,  and  the  chanting  of  a  choir 
wholly  out  of  sight.  Byron  does  not  overstate  the  impression 
of  the  Rhine,  nor  the  regrets  of  parting  from  it,  nor  the  keen 
sense  of  how  much  loved  and  absent  ones,  if  here,  would 
heighten  all  its  attractions.  The  points  of  particular  interest 
are  the  Drachenfels,  Coblentz,  with  Ehrenbreitstein,  Heidel 
berg,  the  cathedral  at  Strasburg ;  but  the  general  impression 
made  by  the  whole  Rhine  is  one  of  a  unity,  identity,  entirety, 
and  depth,  never  to  be  equalled,  never  to  be  resembled.  Old 
Rome  predominated  in  the  vision,  next  the  Middle  Age, 
Church  and  Barons,  then  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  then  the 
form  of  Napoleon,  and  the  passage  of  the  armies  of  modern 


1850.]  JOURNAL  — BASLE.  219 

war.  The  Rhine  would  form  a  grand  subject  of  a  lecture. 
Compare  with  no  river.  Its  civilization  to  that  of  the  Nile  is 
recent  and  grand,  —  hence  no  river  may  rival. 

"  Our  steamer  was  Schiller.  I  saw  another  named  Goethe. 
I  had  forgotten  the  most  glorious  cathedral  of  Cologne,  and  a 
beautiful  picture  of  Jews  weeping  at  Babylon  in  the  Museum. 
The  choir  of  the  cathedral  is  indeed  a  '  vision  ; '  a  single  har 
mony  of  the  boys  chanting  in  the  Strasburg  affected  me  more 
than  all  else ! 

"  Dogs  draw  little  carts  in  Belgium.  Cows  are  yoked  and 
draw  burthens  in  Prussia,  Baden,  Nassau.  Women  labor  in 
all  the  fields.  Vines  are  led  over  the  cottages,  and  flowers 
planted  almost  up  to  the  rail  of  the  car. 

"  Here  at  Basle  our  hotel  stands  on  the  side  of  the  Rhine 
just  as  at  Cologne,  but  here  the  river  rushes  rapid  and  sound 
ing,  and,  till  fretted  and  swelled  by  this  rain,  its  color  was  a 
clear  green.  All  things  show  we  are  going  toward  his 
sources,  or  to  his  cradle  of  mountains,  and  to-morrow  we  ap 
proach  the  Alps.  The  river  passes  out  of  view,  and  the 
mountain  begins  to  claim  its  own  worship.  From  my  win 
dow  I  see  the  flag  of  the  U.  S.  hung  from  the  window  of  the 
Consulate,  in  mourning.1  I  have  visited  the  cathedral,  turned, 
without  violence  or  iconoclasm,  into  a  Protestant  church, 
holding  the  grave  of  Erasmus. 

kt  Political  life  for  ever  is  ended.  Henceforth  the  law  and 
literature  are  all.  I  know  it  must  be  so,  and  I  yield  and  I 
approve.  Some  memorial  I  would  leave  yet,  rescued  from 
the  grave  of  a  mere  professional  man,  some  wise  or  beautiful 
or  interesting  page,  —  something  of  utility  to  America,  which 
I  love  more  every  pulse  that  beats. 

"  The  higher  charm  of  Europe  is  attributable  only  to  her 
bearing  on  her  bosom  here  and  there  some  memorials  of  a 
civilization  about  seven  or  eight  hundred  years  old.  Of  any 
visible  traces  of  any  thing  earlier  there  is  nothing.  All  earlier 
is  of  the  ancient  life,  —  is  in  books,  —  and  may  be  appropri 
ated  by  us,  as  well  as  by  her — under  God  —  and  by  proper 
helps.  The  gathering  of  that  eight  hundred  years,  however, 
collected  and  held  here,  —  libraries,  art,  famous  places,  edu 
cational  spectacles  of  architecture,  picture,  statue,  gardening, 
fountains,  —  are  rich,  rich,  and  some  of  them  we  can  never 
have  nor  use. 

1  General  Taylor  died  July  9,  1850. 


220  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [Cnxp.  VII. 

"  On  how  many  European  minds  in  a  generation  is  felt, 
educationally,  the  influence  of  that  large  body  of  spectacle, 
specifically  European,  and  which  can  never  be  transferred? 
Recollect,  first,  that  all  her  books  we  can  have  among  us  per 
manently.  All  her  history  we  can  read  and  know,  therefore, 
and  all  things  printed.  What  remains  ?  What  that  can 
never  be  transferred  ?  Picture,  statue,  building,  grounds ; 
beyond  and  above,  a  spirit  of  the  place  ;  whatsoever  and  all 
which  come  from  living  in  and  visiting  memorable  places. 
How  many  in  Europe  are  influenced,  and  how,  by  this  last? 
The  recorded  history  affects  us  as  it  does  them.  In  which 
hemisphere  would  an  imaginative  and  speculative  mind  most 
enjoy  itself  ?  In  America,  land  of  hope,  liberty,  —  Utopia 
sobered,  realized,  to  be  fitted  according  to  an  idea,  with  oc 
casional  visits  to  this  picture  gallery  and  museum,  occasional 
studies  here  of  the  objects  we  can't  have ;  or  here,  under  an 
inflexible  realization,  inequalities  of  condition,  rank,  force, 
property,  tribute  to  the  Past,  —  the  Past ! ! ! 

"Looking  to  classes:  1st,  The  vast  mass  is  happier  and 
better  in  America,  is  worth  more,  rises  higher,  is  freer;  its 
standard  of  culture  and  life  higher.  2.  Property  holders  are 
as  scarce.  3.  The  class  of  wealth,  taste,  social  refinement, 
and  genius,  —  how  with  them? 

"  Mem.  The  enjoyment  of  an  American  of  refined  tastes 
and  a  spirit  of  love  of  man  is  as  high  as  that  of  a  European 
of  the  same  class.  He  has  all  but  what  visits  will  give  him, 
and  he  has  what  no  visits  can  give  the  other. 

"  What  one  human  being,  not  of  a  privileged  class,  is  better 
off  in  Europe  than  he  would  be  in  America?  Possibly  a 
mere  scholar,  or  student  of  art,  seeking  learning  or  taste, 
for  itself,  to  accomplish  himself.  But  the  question  is,  if  in 
any  case,  high  and  low,  the  same  rate  of  mind,  and  the  same 
kind  of  mind,  may  not  be  as  happy  in  America  as  in  Europe. 
It  must  modify  its  aims  and  sources  somewhat,  live  out  of  it 
self,  seek  to  do  good,  educate  others.  It  may  acquire  less, 
teach  more ;  suck  into  its  veins  less  nutriment,  less  essence, 
less  perception  of  beauty,  less  relish  of  it  (this  I  doubt),  but 
diffuse  it  more. 

"  What  is  it  worth  to  live  among  all  that  I  have  seen  ?  I 
think  access  to  the  books  and  works  of  art  is  all.  There  is  no 
natural  beauty  thus  far  beyond  ours  —  and  a  storied  country, 
storied  of  battles  and  blood  —  is  that  an  educational  in 
fluence  ? 


1850.]  JOURNAL  — ZURICH.  221 

• 

"Monday,  Aug.  5.  —  Lucerne.  This  is  then  Switzerland. 
It  is  a  sweet,  burning  midsummer's  morning  at  Lucerne. 
Under  one  of  my  windows  is  a  little  garden  in  which  I  see 
currants,  cabbages,  pear-trees,  vines,  healthfully  growing.  Be 
fore  me  from  the  other,  I  see  the  lake  of  Lucerne  —  beyond 
it  in  farthest  east  I  see  the  snowy  peaks  of  Alps  —  I  count 
some  dozen  distinct  summits  on  which  the  snow  is  lying  com 
posing  a  range  of  many  miles.  On  my  extreme  right  ascends 
Mt.  Pilate  —  splintered  bare  granite,  and  on  the  other  Righi, 
high  and  bold  yet  wooded  nearly  to  the  top.  It  is  a  scene  of 
great  beauty  and  interest  where  all  'save  the  heart  of  man' 
may  seem  divine.  We  left  Basle  at  nine  on  Saturday  morn 
ing  and  got  to  Zurich  that  evening  at  six.  This  ride  opened 
no  remarkable  beauty  or  grandeur,  yet  possessed  great  inter 
est.  It  was  performed  in  a  Diligence  —  the  old  Continental 
stage-coach.  And  the  impression  made  through  the  whole 
day  or  until  we  approached  Zurich,  was  exactly  that  of  a  ride 
in  the  coach  from  Hanover  to  the  White  Hills.  I  ascribe  this 
to  the  obvious  circumstances  that  we  were  already  far  above 
the  sea,  were  ascending  along  the  bank  of  a  river,  the  Rhine, 
and  then  a  branch  which  met  us  rushing  full  and  fast  from  its 
mountain  sources  —  that  we  were  approaching  the  base  of 
mountains  of  the  first  class  in  a  high  northern  latitude.  The 
agricultural  productions  (except  the  exotic  vine),  the  grass, 
weeds  moderate;  wheat  —  clover — white  weed  —  the  con 
struction  of  the  valley  —  the  occasional  bends  and  intervales 
—  all  seem  that  of  New  England.  There  was  less  beauty 
than  at  Newbury  and  Bath,  and  I  think  not  a  richer  soil,  — 
certainly  a  poorer  people.  They  assiduously  accumulate 
manure,  and  women  of  all  ages  were  reaping  in  the  fields. 

"  Zurich  is  beautiful.  The  lake  extends  beautifully  to  the 
south  before  it.  Pleasant  gardens  and  orchards  and  heights 
lie  down  to  it  and  adjoining  it.  And  here  first  we  saw  the 
Alps  —  a  vast  chain.  The  Glaciers  ranging  from  east  to 
west  closing  the  view  to  the  south  —  their  peaks  covered  with 
snow  lay  along  as  battlements  unsupported  beneath  of  a  city 
of  the  sky  out  of  sight.  I  went  to  the  library  and  asked  for 
Orelli.  He  died  some  months  since.  Most  of  his  library  was 
shown  me  standing  by  itself  in  the  public  collection  —  and 
the  few  I  could  stay  to  look  at  were  excellent  and  recent  edi 
tions  of  Greek  and  Latin  classics.  I  obtained  of  his  widow 
three  printed  thin  quartos  belonging  to  him  —  about  the  size 
of  a  commencement  thesis  —  in  Latin. 


222  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

"All  things  in  Zurich  announce  Protestantism  —  activity 
of  mind.  The  University  —  the  books  —  the  learned  men  — 
the  new  buildings  —  the  prosperity. 

'•  I  shall  never  forget  the  sweet  sensations  with  which  I 
rode  the  first  five  or  ten  miles  from  Zurich  yesterday.  It  was 
Sunday.  The  bells  of  Zurich  were  ringing,  —  including  that 
honored  by  the  preaching  of  Zwingle,  —  and  men,  women, 
and  children  were  dressed,  and  with  books  were  going  to 
meeting.  Our  way  lay  for  some  time  along  the  shores  of  the 
lake,  through  gardens,  orchards,  and  fields  to  the  water's  edge  ; 
many  of  them  of  the  highest  beauty.  Then  it  left  the  lake 
to  ascend  the  Albis.  This  is  an  excellent  road,  but  to  over 
come  the  mountain  its  course  is  zigzag  and  is  practicable  only 
for  a  walk  of  the  horses.  I  got  out  and  ascended  on  foot, 
crossing  from  one  terrace  of  road  to  another  by  paths 
through  pleasant  woods.  As  I  ascended,  the  whole  valley  of 
Zurich  —  the  city  —  the  lake  in  its  whole  length — the  amphi 
theatre  of  country  enclosing  it  —  the  glorious  Alps,  and  at 
last  Righi  and  Pilate  standing  like  the  speaker's  place  in  a 
Lyceum  with  an  audience  of  mountains  vastly  higher  —  ris 
ing  into  the  peculiar  pinnacle  of  the  Alps  covered  with  snow, 
ascending  before  them  —  successively  evolved  itself.  I  saw 
over  half  of  Switzerland.  Spread  on  it  all  was  the  sweet, 
not  oppressive,  unclouded  summer's  sunlight.  A  pure  clear 
air  enfolded  it — the  Sunday  of  the  pastoral,  sheltered  and 
happy  world.  In  some  such  scenes  the  foundations  of  the 
Puritan  mind  and  polity  were  laid,  —  scenes,  beautiful  by  ttye 
side  of  Tempe  and  Arcady  —  fit  as  they  to  nurse  and  shelter 
all  the  kinds  of  liberty. 

"  We  descended  to  Zug  and  its  lake,  and  then  coasted  it  to 
Lucerne.  Last  evening  we  visited  the  emblematical  lion  and 
sailed  on  the  lake.  To-day  I  go  to  the  chapel  of  Tell.  The 
first  view  of  the  peculiar  sharp  points  of  Alps  was  just  from 
the  very  top  of  Albis  on  the  southwest  brow.  There  rose 
Righi  and  Pilate,  and  east  —  apart  and  above  —  a  sort  of 
range  or  city  of  the  tents  of  an  encampment  in  the  sky.  They 
rested  on  nothing  and  seemed  architecture  of  heaven  —  pa 
vilions —  the  tents  of  a  cavalcade  travelling  above  the  earth. 

"  Berne,  Wednesday  1th.  —  We  left  Lucerne  at  seven  in 
our  own  hired  voiture,  and  with  one  change  of  horses  treating 
ourselves  toft  wo  long  pauses,  arrived  here  at  eight  o'clock  — 
the  last  two  hours  through  a  thunder  shower.  The  way  gave 
me  much  of  the  common  and  average  life  of  Switzerland, 


1850.]  JOURNAL— BERNE.  223 

lying  through  two  of  its  great  Cantons.  What  I  saw  of  Lu 
cerne  disappointed  rne.  The  soil  I  should  think  cold  and  un 
grateful  and  the  mind  of  the  laborer  not  open.  Crucifixes 
everywhere,  and  all  over  every  thing  —  weeds  in  corn  and 
grass.  Once  in  Berne  all  changes.  Man  does  his  duty. 
Excellent  stone  bridges ;  good  fences ;  fewer  weeds  ;  more 
wheat  and  grass  ;  more  look  of  labor  ;  better  buildings  ;  better, 
newer,  larger  houses  and  barns  ;  no  crucifixes  ;  express  the 
change.  Throughout  I  find  a  smallish,  homely  race,  and  pur 
sue  the  dream  of  Swiss  life  in  vain.  Yet  in  these  valleys,  on 
the  sides  of  these  hills,  in  these  farm  houses  scattered  far  and 
near,  though  all  is  cut  off  from  the  great  arterial  and  venous 
system  of  the  world  of  trade  and  influence  —  though  the 
great  pulse  of  business  and  politics  beats  not  —  though  life 
might  seem  to  stagnate  —  is  happiness  and  goodness  too. 
Sometimes  a  high  Swiss  mind  emerges,  and  speaking  a  foreign 
or  dead  tongue,  —  or  migrating,  asserts  itself.  Berne  is  full 
of  liveliness  and  recency  as  well  as  eld.  I  have  run  over  it 
before  breakfast  and  shall  again  before  we  go. 

"  I  saw  at  Berne  the  place  of  the  State  bears,  and  two  of 
the  pensioners — the  high  terraced  ground  of  view  —  the  resi 
dence  of  the  patricians — and  the  Cathedral,  containing  among 
other  things,  tablets  to  the  memory  of  those  who  fell  in  1798, 
enumerating  them,  —  and  the  painted  windows  of  Protestant 
satire.  Our  journey  to  Vevay  had  little  interest,  a  grim 
horizon  of  cloud  and  a  constant  fall  of  rain  wholly  obscured 
the  Alps.  Freiburg  is  striking  —  its  suspended  bridge  sub 
lime  —  and  it  holds  one  of  the  best  organs  of  the  world.  We 
arrived  here  [Vevay]  at  ten  and  I  have  this  morning  looked 
out  on  the  whole  beauty  of  this  part  of  the  lake — from  Haute- 
ville  and  from  a  point  on  the  shore  above  it  and  towards  the 
direction  of  Chillon,  —  and  admitted  its  supreme  interest, 
and  its  various  physical  and  associated  beauty.  The  day  is 
clear  and  warm  and  still.  The  slightest  breeze  stirs  the  sur 
face  of  the  lake,  light  clouds  curl  half  way  up  the  steep  shores 
—  float  —  vanish  —  and  are  succeeded  by  others — a  summer's 
sun  bathes  a  long  shore  and  inland  rising  from  the  shore,  clad 
thick  with  vines;  —  yonder,  looking  to  the  south-east  upon 
the  water  — in  that  valley  —  sheltered  by  the  mountain  — 
nestling  among  those  trees  —  embraced  and  held  still  in  the 
arms  of  universal  love  is  Clarens  —  fit,  unpolluted  asyhmi  of 
love  and  philosophy  ;  before  it,  on  its  left,  is  the  castle  of  Chil 
lon  ;  more  directly  before  it  the  mouth  of  the  Rhone,  here 


224  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

resting  a  space  in  his  long  flight  from  his  glacier-source ;  far 
off  west  stretched  the  Lake  of  Geneva  at  peace  —  here  and 
there  a  white  sail  —  the  home  —  the  worship  —  the  inspira 
tion  of  Rousseau  and  De  Stael  —  the  shelter  of  liberty  — the 
cradle  of  free  thinking  —  the  scene  in  which  the  character  and 
fortunes  of  Puritanism  were  shaped  and  made  possible  — the 
true  birthplace  of  the  civil  and  religious  order  of  the  northern 
New  World. 

"  Geneva,  Sth  Aug.,  Friday.  —  The  lake  was  smooth  and 
bright,  and  our  voyage  of  five  hours  pleasant  and  prosperous; 
and  we  had  the  extraordinary  fortune  to  witness  what  we  are 
assured  was  the  best  sunset  on  Mont  Blanc  for  years.  Long 
after  the  sun  had  sunk  below  our  earth,  the  whole  range  of 
the  mountain  was  in  a  blaze  with  the  descending  glory.  At 
first  it  was  a  mere  reflection,  from  a  long  and  high  surface,  of 
the  sun's  rays.  Gradually  this  passed  into  a  golden  and  rosy 
hue,  then  all  darkened  except  the  supreme  summit  itself,  from 
which  the  gold-light  flashed,  beamed,  some  time  longer;  one 
bright  turret  of  the  building  not  made  with  hands,  kindled 
from  within,  self-poised,  or  held  by  an  unseen  hand.  Under 
our  feet  ran  the  Rhone,  leaping,  joyful,  full,  blue,  to  his  bed 
in  the  Mediterranean.  Before  us  is  the  city  of  thought, 
liberty,  power,  influence,  the  beautiful  and  famous  Geneva. 
More  than  all  in  interest  was  the  house  of  the  father  of  Ma 
dame  de  Stael,  and  the  home  of  the  studies  of  Gibbon. 

44  Paris,  Aug.  18. — I  went  on  Saturday,  Aug.  10,  to  the 
nearer  contemplation  of  Mont  Blanc,  at  Chamouny.  Most  of 
that  journey  lies  through  Savoy,  of  the  kingdom  of  Sardinia, 
even  as  far  as  St.  Martin,  and  beyond  somewhat,  a  well- 
constructed  royal  road.  Within  the  first  third  I  should  think 
of  the  day's  ride  out  from  Geneva,  and  long  before  Mont 
Blanc  again  reveals  himself  (for  you  lose  sight  of  him  wholly 
in  a  mile  or  two  out  of  the  city),  you  enter  a  country  of 
much  such  scenery  as  the  Notch  of  the  White  Mountains. 
An  excellent  road  ascends  by  the  side  of  the  Arve,  itself  a 
mad,  eager  stream,  leaping  from  the  mer  de  glace,  and  running 
headlong,  of  the  color  of  milk  mixed  with  clay,  to  the  Rhone, 
below  Geneva,  on  each  side  of  which  rise  one  after  another, 
a  succession  of  vast  heights,  some  a  half-mile  to  a  mile  above 
you,  all  steep,  more  than  even  perpendicular,  and  even  hang 
ing  over  you,  as  projecting  beyond  their  base.  These  are  so 
near,  and  your  view  so  unobstructed,  and  they  are  all  of  a 
height  so  comprehensible  and  appreciable,  so  to  speak,  so 


1850.]  JOURNAL  —  CHAMOUNY.  225 

little  is  lost  by  an  unavailing  elevation,  that  they  make  more 
impression  than  a  mountain  five  times  as  high.  It  is  exactly 
as  in  the  Notch,  where  the  grandeur  instead  of  being  en 
throned  remote,  dim,  and  resting  in  measurement,  and 
demanding  comparisons  and  thoughts,  is  near,  palpable,  and 
exacting.  Down  many  of  these  streamed  rivulets  of  water, 
silver  threads  of  hundreds,  perhaps  of  thousands,  of  feet  long 
from  source  to  base  of  cliff ;  often  totally  floating  off  from  the 
side  of  the  hill  and  the  bed  in  which  they  had  begun  to  run 
in  a  mere  mist  which  fell  like  rain,  and  farther  down,  and  to 
the  right  or  left  of  the  original  flow,  were  condensed  again 
into  mere  streams.  These  have  no  character  of  waterfall  as-» 
you  ride  along,  but  discharge  a  great  deal  of  water  in  a  very 
picturesque,  holiday,  and  wanton  fashion.  This  kind  of 
scenery  grows  bolder  and  wilder,  and  at  last  and  suddenly  at 
St.  Martin  we  saw  again,  above  it,  and  beyond  it  all,  the 
range  of  Mont  Blanc,  covered  with  snow,  and  at  first  its 
summit  covered  too  with  clouds.  Thenceforth  this  was  ever 
in  view,  and  some  hours  before  sunset  the  clouds  lifted  them 
selves  and  vanished,  and  we  looked  till  all  was  dark  upon  the 
unveiled  summit  itself.  Again  we  had  a  beautiful  evening  sky ; 
again,  but  this  time  directly  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  we 
stood,  and  watched  the  surviving,  diminishing  glory,  and  just 
as  that  faded  from  the  loftiest  peak,  and  it  was  night,  I  turned 
and  saw  the  new  moon  opposite,  within  an  hour  of  setting  in 
the  west.  From  all  this  glory,  and  at  this  elevation,  my 
heart  turned  homeward,  and  I  only  wished  that  since  dear 
friends  could  not  share  this  here,  I  could  be  by  their  side, 
arid  Mont  Blanc  a  morning's  imagination  only. 

"  My  health  hindered  all  ascensions.  I  lay  in  bed  on  Sun 
day,  reading  a  little,  dreaming  more,  walked  to  the  side  of 
one  glacier,  and  on  Monday  returned  to  Geneva  to  recruit. 
After  a  day  of  nursing,  we  on  Wednesday,  14th  August, 
started  for  Paris,  and  arrived  last  evening.  Our  first  three 
days  was  by  post-horses  and  a  hired  carriage,  and  brought  us 
to  Tonnerre.  The  first  day  ended  at  Champagnole,  and  was 
a  day  of  ascending  and  descending  Jura.  We  passed  through 
Coppet  however,  and  I  had  the  high  delight  of  visiting  the 
chateau  and  the  grounds  which  were  the  home  of  Madame 
de  Stael,  and  of  looking,  from  a  distance  still,  on  the  tomb 
where  she  is  buried.  The  chateau  could  not  be  entered,  but 
it  is  large,  looks  well,  and  beholds  the  lake  directly  before  it, 
spread  deliciously  to  the  right  and  left.  I  walkecl  up  and 

15 


226  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VII. 

down  the  grounds,  and  over  a  path  where  she  habitually 
walked  and  wrote,  and  thought  and  burned  with  the  love  of 
fame  and  France,  —  and  plucked  a  leaf.  She  helped  to  shape 
my  mind,  and  to  store  and  charm  it.  My  love  for  her  began 
in  college,  growing  as  I  come  nearer  to  the  hour  when  such 
tongues  must  cease,  and  such  knowledge  vanish  away.  Almost 
in  sight  was  Lausanne.  Jura  is  climbed  by  a  noble  road 
which,  if  possible,  grows  better  all  the  way  to  Tonnerre. 
Both  sides  seem  cold,  and  wooded,  not  grateful  to  the  hus 
bandman  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  the  country  till  we  left  the 
Jura  at  Poligny  was  not  interesting.  A  French  fortification 
is  building  on  the  line,  —  beggary  ceased  instantly,  —  some 
saw-mills  to  manufacture  timber,  —  and  for  the  rest  it  is  a 
moderately  good  farming  country. 

"  At  Poligny  a  new  image  !  The  vast  plain  of  Franche- 
Comte,  and  then  of  Burgundy  opened  before  us,  and  for  near 
two  whole  days,  and  a  hundred  miles,  we  rode  through  vast 
fields  of  excellent  Indian  corn,  and  then  through  the  great 
grape  region,  all  productive  of  famous  wine ;  some  rare  and 
privileged  spots,  the  cote  du  vin,  productive  of  the  most  re 
nowned  wine  in  the  world.  Generally  the  eye  turned  every 
way  on  a  plain.  On  this  rose  some  undulations,  and  these 
grew  more  and  more  numerous  as  we  approached  the  hither 
limit  of  Burgundy.  And  this  plain,  thus  undulating,  some 
times  rising  to  hills,  was  covered  all  over  with  the  two,  not 
kindred,  yet  not  dissimilar,  and  both  rich,  harvests  of  maize 
and  vine.  Peace,  quiet  labor,  good  husbandry,  and  an  ample 
return,  a  peasantry  of  good-looking  men  and  women,  and 
well-clad  children,  large  houses,  whereof  barn  is  part,  the 
name  and  history  of  Burgundy,  all  together  left  an  image 
sweet,  peculiar,  memorable. 

"  Quentin  Durward,  Louis  XL,  Philip  de  Comines,  Charles 
the  Bold,  the  whole  Ducal  life,  the  whole  vast  struggle  of  cen 
tralization,  seem  henceforth  to  have  a  clearer  significance, 
and  a  more  real  inherence  in  locality.  Dijon  is  full  of  the 
Ducal  name  and  being.  At  Montbard,  my  dining-room  win 
dow  looked  on  the  solitary  tower-study  of  Buffon,  a  sight  of 
deep  and  sad  interest.  At  Tonnerre  we  took  the  rail,  and 
soon  the  valley  of  the  Saone  and  Rhone,  the  slope  to  the 
Mediterranean  was  left  behind,  and  we  came  upon  the  tribu 
taries  of  the  Seine,  the  waters  of  the  Cote  d'Or,  and  of  the 
English  Channel.  Two  hours  we  gave  to  Fontainebleau. 
With  a  different,  and  in  some  respects  less  interest  than  Ver- 


1850.]  JOURNAL  — ENGLAND.  227 

sailles,  it  has  a  charm  of  its  own.  There  is  the  private  life 
of  French  kings.  St.  Louis,  Louis  XIII.,  Francis  I.,  Henry 
IV.,  Louis  XV.,  Napoleon,  —  are  there  en  famille,  the  home 
of  kings.  The  spot  of  the  '  Adieux  at  Fontainebleau,'  near 
the  foot  of  the  staircase  in  the  court,  the  table  of  the  signing 
of  the  abdication  ;  his  throne,  his  bedroom,  the  dining-hall, 
the  chapel  of  the  two  marriages  (of  Louis  XV.,  and  of  the 
late  Duke  of  Orleans,  whose  tomb  I  have  just  visited),  the 
glorious  Gobelins,  old  and  new,  the  hall  of  Henry  and  Diana 
(of  Poictiers),  and  of  Francis,  the  gardens  behind,  the  strik 
ing  of  the  clock,  —  all  are  worth  a  sight,  a  hearing,  a  memory, 
a  sigh. 

"  This  approach  to  Paris  is  beautiful.  The  valley  of  the 
Seine,  stretching  as  far  as  the  sight,  the  vine  everywhere,  yet 
flocks  of  sheep,  rye-fields,  forest  of  royal  chase  interspersed 
and  contrasted,  and  at  last  the  dome  of  the  Invalides,  and  the 
solemn  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  —  these  are  its  general  spec 
tacle  and  its  particular  images  some  of  them. 

"  To-day  I  have  attended  vespers  at  St.  Denis,  and  have 
visited  the  tomb  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  They  showed  us 
the  restored  series  of  the  French  royal  dead,  and  gave  us  the 
loud  and  low  of  the  grandest  organ ;  and  then  I  saw  at 
the  chapel,  which  is  the  tomb  of  the  Duke,  such  a  mingling 
of  sharp  grief;  parents  and  brothers  in  agony  for  the  first 
born,  and  the  dearly  loved  ;  the  son,  brother  and  heir-apparent, 
with  crushed  hopes ;  perishing  dynasties ;  as  few  other  spots 
of  earth  may  show.  If  Thiers  and  Guizot  were  there,  their 
thoughts  might  wander  from  the  immediate  misery  to  the 
possible  results  ;  they  might  reflect  that  not  only  the  imme 
diate  heir,  but  the  only  loved  of  France  of  that  line  was 
dying.  The  organ  was  played  just  enough  to  show  what 
oceans  and  firmaments  full  of  harmony  are  there  accumulated. 
Some  drops,  some  rivulets,  some  grandest  peals  we  heard, 
identifying  it,  and  creating  longings  for  more.  The  first  time 
I  have  seen  a  Louis  XI.  was  in  that  royal  cemetery.  He 
wears  a  little,  low  hat,  over  a  face  of  sinister  sagacity. 

"  Cambridge,  1st  Sept.  —  Since  I  came  to  Dover  (Aug.),  my 
whole  time  has  passed  like  a  sweet  yet  exhausting  dream. 
England  never  looked  to  any  eye,  not  filial,  so  sweet  as  I  found 
it  from  Dover  to  London.  It  was  the  harvest  home  of  Kent ; 
and  the  whole  way  was  through  one  great  field  —  through  a 
thour-and  rather  —  some  nodding  yellow  and  white,  -waiting 


228  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

the  sickle  ;  some  covered  with  the  fallen  and  partially  gathered 
grain  ;  some  showing  a  stubble  —  extensive  —  the  numerous 
and  large  stacks  shaped  and  clustered  as  houses  in  villages, 
embodying  the  yield ;  some  green  with  hops,  grass,  turnips  ; 
everywhere  glorious  groves  of  great  trees  ;  everywhere  trees 
standing  large,  hale,  independent,  —  one  vast,  various,  yet  mo 
notonous  image  of  the  useful,  plain,  rich,  and  scientific  agri 
culture  of  England.  Came  to  London.  I  saw  the  interior 
of  St.  Paul's,  the  parks ;  heard  in  some  fashionable  ladies' 
society  a  story  or  two  of  Brougham ;  heard  Grisi  and  Mario 
in  three  operas,  —  Norma  :  another  by  Donizetti,  comic,  but 
a  reckless  squandering  of  delicious  music  on  a  story  of  a  lover 
seeking  a  potion  to  make  him  loved ;  and  finally  Don  Gio 
vanni  ;  the  trio,  and  the  solo  of  Mario,  by  far  the  best  music 
I  ever  heard  in  that  kind.  Mario  is  handsome  —  voluptu 
ously  ;  his  voice  flexible,  firm,  rich  as  a  clarionet. 

"  But  from  London  what  have  I  not  seen  !  Twickenham  : 
Pope's  Grotto  —  the  views  through  it  —  Richmond  Hill,  and 
its  wealth  of  beautiful  aspects  ;  Hampton  Court,  so  glorious 
in  its  exterior  of  trees,  grounds,  avenue,  park  —  so  disap 
pointing  within,  yet  leaving  an  impression  of  William  III. ; 
Kensington,  known  to  the  world  as  a  great,  useful,  botanic 
garden  ;  Gray's  home  and  poetical  nourishments  —  the  church 
yard,  ivy  tower  —  mouldering  heaps  —  yew-tree,  his  own 
monument,  his  view  of  Eton  —  the  ride  to  and  fro  —  the 
most  intensely  rural  England  ;  Eton  itself —  the  palace  and 
the  matchless  prospect  from  the  keep ;  Windsor  forest.  Old 
Windsor  —  the  valley  of  the  Thames,  and  all  the  scenes 
which  the  Augustan  poetry  of  England  loved,  by  which  it 
was  led  and  stimulated,  on  which  a  greater  than  that  school 
loved  to  look,  and  has  done  something  to  endear  and  to  im 
mortalize. 

"  When  this  was  done,  there  was  left  to  see  the  University — 
physical  and  mental  architecture  of  England.  I  am  glad  I  went 
first  to  Oxford.  I  am  doubly  and  for  ever  grateful  and  glad, 
that  the  last  great  impression  I  shall  take  and  hold  of  England 
is  to  be  that  conveyed  by  the  University  of  Cambridge.  This 
day,  Sunday,  I  have  passed  here  at  Cambridge,  with  perhaps 
as  keen  and  as  various  a  pleasure  as  I  ever  felt,  —  except  at 
home,  or  in  a  book.  But  I  begin  with  Oxford.  The  country 
on  the  way  disappointed  me  in  the  first  place.  The  whole 
city  and  the  Colleges  did  so,  even  more  cruelly,  in  the  next 
place.  Something  I  ascribe  to  the  day,  —  dark  and  cold,  — 


1850.]  JOURNAL  — CAMBRIDGE.  229 

but  not  much.  The  Isis  does  nothing  for  Oxford,  that  I  could 
see,  though  some  of  the  college  walks  are  on  its  meadows. 
The  exterior  of  the  Colleges,  so  far  as  I  saw,  was  not  old 
only  —  that  was  well  —  but  all  old,  only  old,  grim,  and  with 
a  worn  and  neglected  look,  as  if  the  theory  were  to  keep  for 
ever  before  the  eye  the  old,  old  time  and  art  and  product,  un- 
warmed,  unacidulated,  unenlivened  by  the  circulation  of  a 
drop  of  later  life.  I  visited,  however,  the  dining-hall  of 
Christ's  Church,  and  its  chapel  and  library,  with  interest,  yet 
oppressed  at  every  step  with  —  I  know  not  what  —  of  the 
retrograding  or  stationary  and  narrow  and  ungenial  in  opinion, 
in  policy,  in  all  things.  The  Bodleian,  impressed  by  its  regal 
wealth  and  spaciousness.  Altogether  it  seemed  a  place  for 
rest,  for  inertness,  for  monastic  seclusion,  for  a  dream,  and  a 
sigh  after  the  irrevocable  past. 

"  This  day  at  Cambridge  has  been  such  a  contrast  that  I 
distrust  myself.  The  country  from  London,  in  spite  of  heavy 
cloud  and  chill,  was  beautiful,  —  an  undulating  and  appar 
ently  rich  surface,  strongly  suggestive  of  the  best  of  Essex 
and  Middlesex.  The  impression  made  by  the  University 
portion  of  Cambridge  I  can  scarcely  analyze.  The  architec 
ture  is  striking.  The  old  is  kept  in  repair  ;  the  new  harmon 
izes,  and  is  intrinsically  beautiful,  so  that  here  seems  a  recon 
ciliation  of  past,  present,  and  of  the  promise  of  the  future. 
Conservation  and  progress  —  the  old,  beautified,  affectionately 
and  gracefully  linked  to  the  present  —  an  old  field  of  new 
corn  —  the  new  recalling  the  old,  filial,  reverential,  yet  look 
ing  forward —  running,  running  a  race  of  hope.  The  new 
part  of  St.  John  is  beautiful ;  all  of  King's  is  striking,  too. 
I  attended  the  cathedral  service  in  King's  Chapel,  as  striking 
as  St.  George's  in  London,  and  then  for  a  few  minutes  went 
to  the  University  Chapel,  and  again  to  All  Saints'  to  see  the 
tablet  and  statue  of  Kirke  White.  The  courts,  buildings,  and 
grounds  of  Trinity  are  beautiful  and  impressive ;  and  in  my 
life  I  have  never  been  filled  by  a  succession  of  sweeter,  more 
pathetic,  more  thrilling  sensations  than  in  looking  from  the 
window  of  Newton's  room,  walking  in  his  walks,  recalling 
the  series  of  precedent,  contemporaneous,  and  subsequent 
companionship  of  great  names  whose  minds  have  been  trained 
here,  and  which  pale  and  fade  before  his  !  The  grounds  of 
Trinity,  St.  John,  St.  Peter,  are  the  finest  I  have  seen  ;  the 
two  former  on,  and  each  side  of,  the  Cam,  which  is  bridged 
by  each  college  more  than  once,  divided  and  conducted  around 


230  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VII. 

and  through  the  gardens,  so  as  artificially  to  adorn  them  more, 
and  to  be  made  safe  against  inundation,  —  the  latter  not 
reaching  to  the  river,  but  even  more  sweet  mid  redolent  of 
more  and  more  careful  and  ta-teful  and  modern  horticulture. 
I  seem  to  find  here  an  image  of  the  true  and  the  great  Eng 
land.  Here  is  a  profusion  of  wealth,  accumulated  and  appro 
priated  for  ages,  to  a  single  and  grand  end,  —  the  advancement 
of  knowledge  and  the  imparting  of  knowledge.  It  is  em 
bodied  to  the  eye  in  a  city  of  buildings,  much  of  it  beautiful, 
all  of  it  picturesque  and  impressive,  and  in  grounds  shaded, 
quiet,  fittest  seats  of  learning  and  genius.  Something  there  is 
of  pictures;  great  libraries  are  here.  Learned  men,  —  who 
are  only  the  living  generation  of  a  succession  which,  unbroken, 
goes  back  for  centuries,  and  comprehends  a  vast  proportion  of 
the  mind  of  the  nation  in  all  its  periods,  —  in  increasing  num 
bers,  tenant  these  walls,  and  are  penetrated  by  these  influences. 
A  union  of  the  old,  the  recent,  the  present,  the  prediction  of 
the  future,  imaged  in  the  buildings,  in  the  grounds,  by  every 
thing,  is  manifested,  —  giving  assurance  and  a  manifestation 
of  that  marked,  profound  English  policy,  which  in  all  things 
acquires  but  keeps,  —  and  binds  the  ages  and  the  generations 
by  an  unbroken  and  electric  tie." 

The  Journal  abruptly  breaks  off  with  this  heartfelt 
tribute,  and  was  never  resumed. 

From  this  the  travellers  went  to  the  north  of  Eng 
land,  to  Edinburgh,  Abbotsford,  Glasgow,  and  through 
the  lowlands  of  Scotland,  and  embarking  at  Liverpool, 
reached  home  in  September. 


1850-1855.1  FUGITIVE   SLAVE  LAW.  231 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

1850-1855. 

Political  Excitement  —  Union  Meetings  —  Address  on  Washington, 
Feb.  1851  — The  Case  of  Fairchild  v.  Adams— Address  before  the 
"Story  Association"  —  Webster  Meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Nov. 
1851  —  Argues  an  India-Rubber  Case  in  Trenton  —  Baltimore 
Convention,  June,  1852  —  Address  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society, 
Burlington,  Vt.  — Journey  to  Quebec  —  Death  of  Mr.  Webster  — 
Letter  to  E.  Jackson  —  Letter  to  Harvey  Jewell,  Esq.  —  Letter  to 
Mrs.  Eames —  Offer  of  the  Attorney-Generalship  —  Convention  to 
revise  the  Constitution  of  Massachusetts  —  Eulogy  on  Daniel  Web 
ster,  at  Dartmouth  College  —  Letter  to  his  Daughter — Letters  to 
Mrs.  Eames  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Everett  —  Letters  to  his  Son  —  Letters 
to  his  Daughter  —  Address  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Peabody  Insti 
tute,  Sept.  1854  —  Letters  to  Mr.  Everett —Letter  to  Mrs.  Eames 
—  Accident  and  Illness  —  Letters  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eames. 

THE  state  of  the  country  in  1850  was  such  as  to 
cause  great  anxiety  among  thoughtful  men.  The 
whole  year  was  marked  by  a  political  excitement  second 
only  in  intensity  to  that  which  has  since  produced  such 
momentous  results.  The  acquisition  of  new  territory 
from  Mexico  re-opened  the  question  of  slavery.  On 
the  7th  of  March,  Mr.  Webster  made  his  memorable 
speech  on  "  The  Constitution  and  the  Union."  The 
law  for  the  return  of  fugitive  slaves  excited  much 
opposition  among  a  portion  of  the  people  at  the  North, 
while  at  the  South  there  was  wide-spread  apprehension 
and  discontent.  This  feeling  was  exasperated  in  both 
parts  of  the  country,  by  intemperate  harangues,  and 


232  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

inflammatory  appeals  through  the  newspapers.  The 
excitement  became  at  last  so  strong,  that  judicious  and 
conservative  men  felt  bound  to  protest  against,  and,  if 
possible,  allay  it.  Accordingly,  Union  meetings  were 
held  in  different  States,  —  in  Alabama,  Kentucky, 
Ohio,  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New  Hampshire,  and 
Massachusetts,  —  and  sound  men  of  all  parties  united 
to  deprecate  the  disloyal  and  hostile  sentiments  which 
were  too  frequently  heard.  The  meeting  in  Boston 
was  held  in  Faneuil  Hall,  on  the  26th  of  November. 
It  was  opened  by  Hon.  Benjamin  R.  Curtis,  with  an 
address  of  great  compactness  and  power,  and  closed 
with  a  speech  from  Mr.  Choate  replete  with  profound 
feeling  as  well  as  broad  and  generous  patriotism ;  far- 
sighted  and  wise  in  pointing  out  the  dangers  of  the 
Republic,  and  earnest  and  solemn,  even  beyond  his 
wont,  in  exhortation  to  avoid  them. 

In  February,  1851,  Mr.  Choate  delivered,  in  Charles- 
town,  an  address  on  Washington.  He  repeated  it  in 
Boston.  It  was  marked  by  his  usual  fervor,  and  af 
forded  him  another  opportunity  of  dwelling  upon  that 
public  virtue  which  he  feared  was  losing  its  high  place 
and  honor.  An  extract  of  a  few  pages  will  show  its 
spirit. 

"  In  turning  now,"  he  said,  "  to  some  of  the  uses  to 
which  this  great  example  may  contribute,  I  should 
place  among  the  first  this,  to  which  I  have  this  moment 
made  allusion  ;  that  is,  that  we  may  learn  of  it  how 
real,  how  lofty,  how  needful,  and  how  beautiful  a  virtue 
is  patriotism. 

"  It  is  among  the  strangest  of  all  the  strange  things 
we  see  and  hear,  that  there  is,  so  early  in  our  history, 


1850-1855.]          ADDRESS   ON  WASHINGTON.  233 

a  class  of  moralists  among  us,  by  whom  that  duty,  once 
held  so  sacred,  which  takes  so  permanent  a  place  in 
the  practical  teachings  of  the  Bible,  which  Christianity 
—  as  the  Christian  world  has  all  but  universally  under 
stood  its  own  religion  —  not  tolerates  alone,  but  enjoins 
by  all  its  sanctions,  and  over  which  it  sheds  its  selectest 
influences,  while  it  ennobles  and  limits  it;  which  liter 
ature,  art,  history,  the  concurrent  precepts  of  the  wisest 
and  purest  of  the  race  in  all  eras,  have  done  so  much 
to  enforce  and  adorn  and  regulate,  —  I  mean  the  duty 
of  loving,  with  a  specific  and  peculiar  love,  our  own 
country  ;  of  preferring  it  to  all  others,  into  which  the 
will  of  God  has  divided  man ;  of  guarding  the  integrity 
of  its  actual  territory ;  of  advancing  its  power,  emi 
nence,  and  consideration ;  of  moulding  it  into  a  vast 
and  indestructible  whole,  obeying  a  common  will,  vivi 
fied  by  a  common  life,  identified  by  a  single  soul ; 
strangest  it  is,  I  say,  of  all  that  is  strange,  we  have 
moralists,  sophists,  rather,  of  the  dark  or  purple  robe, 
by  whom  this  master-duty  of  social  man  is  virtually 
and  practically  questioned,  yea,  disparaged.  They 
deal  with  it  as  if  it  were  an  old-fashioned,  and  half- 
barbarous  and  vulgar  and  contracted  animalism,  rather 
than  a  virtue.  This  love  of  country  of  yours,  they  say, 
what  is  it,  at  last,  but  an  immoral  and  unphilosophical 
limitation  and  counteraction  of  the  godlike  principle 
of  universal  Benevolence  ?  These  symbols  and  festal 
days ;  these  processions,  and  martial  airs,  and  dis 
courses  of  the  departed  great ;  this  endeared  name  of 
America,  this  charmed  flag,  this  memorial  column, 
these  old  graves,  these  organic  forms,  this  boasted 
Constitution,  this  united  national  existence,  this  ample 
and  glorious  history  of  national  progress,  these  dreams 


234  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  VIII. 

of  national  fortune,  —  alas!  what  are  they  but  shams, 
baubles,  playthings  for  the  childhood  of  the  race  ;  nur 
sery  ballads,  like  the  Old  Testament;  devices  of  vanity, 
devices  of  crime,  smelling  villanously  of  saltpetre  ; 
empty  plausibilities ;  temporary  and  artificial  expe 
dients,  say  hindrances,  rather,  by  which  the  great  and 
good,  of  all  hemispheres  and  all  races,  are  kept  from 
running  into  one  another's  embraces  ;  and  man,  the 
abstract,  ideal,  and  subjective  conception  of  humanity, 
after  having  been  progressively  developed,  all  the  way 
up,  from  the  brain  of  a  fish,  is,  in  this  nineteenth  cen 
tury,  sacrificed  and  smothered  by  his  accidents !  Do 
not  stoop  so  low  as  to  be  a  Patriot.  Aspire  to  be  a 
Philanthropist !  To  reform  your  country,  not  to  pre 
serve  your  country,  is  the  highest  style  of  man,  nowa 
days.  Root  and  branch  work  of  it,  is  the  word.  If 
she  goes  to  pieces  in  the  operation,  why,  her  time  had 
come,  and  there  is  an  end  of  an  old  song.  It  will  be 
only  the  ancient  myth  of  the  fall  of  man  and  expulsion 
from  Paradise,  —  nothing  but  a  stage  of  progress,  - 
just  a  bursting  into  a  new  life,  rather  different  from  the 
old,  and  more  of  it,  —  that  is  all ! ! 

"It  would  be  easy  to  expose  the  emptiness,  presump- 
tuousness,  and  dangers  of  such  morality ;  but  I  direct 
you,  for  a  better  refutation,  always  to  the  life  and 
death  of  Washington.  Was  not  that  patriotism,  — 
virtue  ?  Was  it  not  virtue,  entitling  itself —  in  the 
language  of  the  Christian  Milton  —  entitling  itself, 
after  this  mortal  change,  '  to  a  crown  among  the  en 
throned  gods  on  sainted  seats  ? '  Was  that  patriotism 
selfish  or  vain  or  bloody  or  contracted  ?  Was  it  the 
less  sublime  because  it  was  practical  and  because  it  was 
American  ?  This  making  of  a  new  nation  in  a  new 


1850-1855.]  ADDRESS   ON   WASHINGTON.  235 

world,  this  devising  of  instrumentalities,  this  inspira 
tion  of  a  spirit,  whereby  millions  of  men,  through 
many  generations  and  ages,  will  come  one  after  another 
to  the  great  gift  of  social  being,  —  shall  be  born  and 
live  and  die  in  a  vast  brotherhood  of  peace,  —  mental 
and  moral  advancement,  and  reciprocation  of  succor 
and  consolation,  in  life  and  death,  —  what  attribute  of 
grandeur,  what  element  of  supreme  and  transcendent 
beneficence  and  benevolence  does  it  lack  ?  Is  it  not 
obedience  to  the  will  of  God?  Does  not  He  decree  the 
existence  of  separate  and  independent  nations  on  the 
earth  ?  Does  not  the  structure  of  the  globe,  its  seas, 
mountains,  deserts,  varieties  of  heat,  cold,  and  produc 
tions  ;  does  not  the  social  nature  of  man,  the  grand 
educational  necessities  and  intimations  of  his  being  ; 
does  not  the  nature  of  liberty  ;  does  not  his  universal 
history,  from  the  birth  of  the  world ;  do  not  all  things 
reveal  it,  as  a  fundamental  and  original  law  of  the  race, 
—  this  distribution  into  several  National  Life  ?  Is  it 
not  as  profoundly  true  to-day  as  ever  ?  '  Nihil  est  enim 
illi  principi  Deo,  qui  omnem  hunc  mundum  regit,  quod 
quidem  in  terris  fiat,  acceptim  quam  concilia,  ccetusque 
Jiominum  jure  sociati,  quce  civitates  appellanturS  l 

"  Is  not  the  national  family  as  clear  an  appointment 
of  nature  and  nature's  God  as  the  family  of  the  hearth? 
Is  it  not  a  divine  ordinance,  even  as  love  of  parents 
and  love  of  children  ?  Nay,  is  it  not,  after  all,  the  only 
practical  agency  through  which  the  most  expansive 
love  of  Man  can  be  made  to  tell  on  Man  ?  And  if 
so,  if  the  end  is  commanded,  that  is,  if  the  existence 
of  the  independent  and  entire  state  is  commanded, 
are  not  the  means  of  insuring  that  end  commanded 
1  Cic.  De  Rep.  vi.  13. 


236  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.      [CHAP.  VHI. 

also?  And  if  so,  are  not  the  traits,  the  deeds,  the 
care,  the  valor,  the  spirit  of  nationality,  the  obedience 
to  the  collective  will  and  reason  as  expressed  through 
the  prescribed  organic  form ;  are  not  all  these  senti 
ments,  and  all  that  policy,  '  the  great  scenery,  the 
heroic  feelings,  the  blaze  of  ancient  virtue,  the  exalted 
deaths,'  which  are  directed  specifically  and  primarily 
to  the  creation  and  preservation  of  the  State,  —  are 
they  not  highest  in  the  scale  of  things  commanded  ? 
Must  not  '.being,'  in  the  antithesis  of  Hooker,  go 
before  even  '  well  being  '  ?  Away  then  with  this  spu 
rious  and  morbid  morality  of  the  purple  robe,  which 
erects  the  uses  of  some  particular,  moral,  or  social,  or 
economical  reform,  that  if  not  effected  to-day,  may  be 
to-morrow,  above  the  keeping  of  the  Republic,  which, 
once  descended  into  the  tomb  of  nations,  shall  rise 
not,  till  the  heavens  be  no  more ;  which  dislocates  im 
piously  the  fair  and  divinely  appointed  order  of  the  du 
ties,  which  thinks  it  savors  of  lettered  illumination,  to 
look  down  on  that  glorious  family  of  virtues  which 
holds  kingdoms  and  commonwealths  in  their  spheres. 
Give  me  back  rather,  give  back  to  America  rather,  — 
she  needs  it  yet,  for  a  century,  till  her  national  being, 
so  recent,  so  immature,  is  compacted  to  the  consistency 
of  pyramids,  —  give  her  back  rather  the  faith  and  the 
philosophy  of  that  day  which  prayed  in  every  pulpit, 
for  the  arms  of  "Washington  ;  which  in  the  gorgeous 
orientalism  of  Robert  Hall,  say  rather  of  the  Scripture 
itself,  believed  that,  guided  and  inspired  by  the  Mighty 
Hand,  his  hosts,  in  the  day  of  battle,  might  have  their 
eyes  opened,  to  behold  in  every  plain  and  every  valley, 
what  the  prophet  beheld  by  the  same  illumination,— 
chariots  of  fire,  and  horses  of  fire ;  which  saw  in  his 


1850-1855.1  ADDRESS  ON  WASHINGTON.  237 

escape  from  the  wasting  rifle-shot  of  the  Monongahela, 
a  prediction,  and  a  decree  of  some  transcendent  public 
service,  for  which  he  was  saved. 

"  To  form  and  uphold  a  State,  it  is  not  enough  that 
our  judgments  believe  it  to  be  useful ;  the  better  part 
of  our  affections  must  feel  it  to  be  lovely.  It  is  not 
enough  that  our  arithmetic  can  compute  its  value,  and 
find  it  high ;  our  hearts  must  hold  it  priceless,  above 
all  things  rich  or  rare,  dearer  than  health  or  beauty, 
brighter  than  all  the  order  of  the  stars.  It  does  not 
suffice  that  its  inhabitants  should  seem  to  you  good 
men  enough  to  trade  with,  altogether  even  as  the  rest 
of  mankind ;  ties  of  brotherhood,  memories  of  a  com 
mon  ancestry,  common  traditions  of  fame  and  justice, 
a  common  and  undivided  inheritance  of  rights,  liber 
ties,  and  renown, —  these  things  must  knit  you  to  them 
with  a  distinctive  and  domestic  attraction.  It  is  not 
enough  that  a  man  thinks  he  can  be  an  unexceptionable 
citizen,  in  the  main,  and  unless  a  very  unsatisfactory 
law  passes.  He  must  admit,  into  his  bosom,  the  spe 
cific  and  mighty  emotion  of  patriotism.  He  must  love 
his  country,  his  whole  country,  as  the  place  of  his  birth 
or  adoption,  and  the  sphere  of  his  largest  duties ;  as 
the  playground  of  his  childhood,  the  land  where  his 
fathers  sleep,  the  sepulchre  of  the  valiant  and  wise,  of 
his  own  blood  and  race  departed  ;  he  must  love  it  for 
the  long  labors  that  reclaimed  and  adorned  its  natural 
and  its  moral  scenery ;  for  the  great  traits  and  great 
virtues  of  which  it  has  been  the  theatre  ;  for  the  insti 
tution  and  amelioration  and  progress  that  enrich  it ; 
for  the  part  it  has  played  for  the  succor  of  the  nations. 
A  sympathy  indestructible  must  draw  him  to  it.  It 


238  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

must  be  of  power  to  touch  his  imagination.  All  the 
passions  which  inspire  and  animate  in  the  hour  of  con 
flict  must  wake  at  her  awful  voice." 

In  the  earlier  part  of  this  year  Mr.  Choate  defended 
his  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Adams,  on  a  charge  of  slander. 
The  case  was  peculiar  and  presented  some  interesting 
points  for  the  clerical  profession  in  general.1 

"  The  action  of  Fairchild  v.  Adams  was  for  written 
and  verbal  slander.  Mr.  Fairchild,  while  pastor  of  a 
church  in  South  Boston,  became  a  member  of  the  Suf 
folk  South  Association  of  Ministers  ;  Rev.  Dr.  Adams 
being  also  a  member.  Mr.  Fairchild  was  privately 
charged  by  one  Rhoda  Davidson  with  being  the  father 
of  her  illegitimate  child  ;  and  she  demanded  of  him 
a  considerable  sum  of  money.  He  paid  her  a  part  of 
what  she  demanded,  and  promised  to  pay  her  further 
sums,  and  wrote  her  a  letter  which  was  strongly  indi 
cative  of  the  truth  of  the  charge.  The  circumstances 
having  become  known  to  a  few  persons  in  his  society, 
he  asked  a  dismission,  under  a  threat  of  exposure, 
and  went  to  Exeter,  N.H.,  where  he  was  installed  as  a 
pastor.  Having  learned,  soon  after  his  settlement 
there,  that  there  must  be  a  public  exposure  of  the 
affair,  he  attempted  to  commit  suicide.  Soon  after 
wards  an  ecclesiastical  council  met  at  Exeter,  which 
advised  that  he  should  be  dismissed  from  his  charge, 
and  degraded  from  the  ministry.  He  was  about  this 
time  indicted  at  Boston  for  adultery,  but  kept  out  of 
the  State,  and  was  not  taken  upon  the  warrant  till 


1  For  the  following  account  I  am  indebted  to  Hon.  R.  A.  Chapman, 
now  Chief  Justice  of  the  Massachusetts  Supreme  Court,  one  of  the 
referees  before  whom  the  case  was  tried. 


1850-1855.]       CASE  OF  FAIRCHILD  v.  ADAMS.  239 

after  the  lapse  of  a  considerable  time.  He  finally  re 
turned  and  took  his  trial,  and  was  acquitted,  as  it  was 
understood,  because  the  testimony  of  the  witness 
Davidson  was  impeached.  After  this  acquittal  he  re 
turned  to  his  former  pursuit  in  South  Boston,  and 
received  a  call  to  settle  there.  A  council  was  con 
vened,  which  advised  his  settlement,  taking  the  ground 
that  his  acquittal  in  a  criminal  court  should  be  treated 
by  an  ecclesiastical  council  as  conclusive  evidence  of 
his  innocence.  From  this  position  Dr.  Adams  and 
other  members  of  the  association  always  dissented, 
and  refused  to  recognize  him  as  a  minister. 

"  Before  the  meeting  of  the  council  at  Exeter,  some 
discussion  had  taken  place  in  respect  to  the  standing 
of  Mr.  Fairchild  in  the  Suffolk  South  Association  ;  and 
it  had  been  arranged  that  the  association  should  be 
governed  by  the  result  of  that  council.  Accordingly 
after  he  had  been  degraded  from  the  ministry,  the  as 
sociation  passed  a  vote,  reciting  that  result,  and  expel 
ling  him  from  their  body.  After  he  had  been  again 
installed  in  South  Boston,  he  requested  of  the  associa 
tion  a  copy  of  the  vote  by  which  they  had  expelled 
him.  The  copy  was  accordingly  furnished  him,  after 
which  he  sent  them  a  communication  demanding  that 
they  should  rescind  the  vote  as  a  libel,  and  restore  him 
to  good  standing  as  a  member  ;  and  he  proposed  to 
appear  before  them,  and  offer  evidence  and  arguments 
on  the  question  of  rescinding  the  vote,  and  proposed 
to'  some  of  the  members  to  make  inquiries  of  certain 
persons  in  respect  to  some  of  the  accusations  that  had 
been  made  against  him.  The  association  gave  him  a 
hearing,  and  after  its  close  each  of  the  members  was 
called  upon  to  give  an  opinion,  with  the  reasons  for  it. 


240  MEMOIR   OF  KUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

Among  others  Dr.  Adams  gave  his  vote  in  favor  of  a 
resolution  adverse  to  the  restoration  of  Mr.  Fairchild, 
and  stated  verbally  his  reasons  for  it.  He  was  selected 
as  the  object  of  a  suit,  because  he  was  a  man  of  influ 
ence,  and  because  of  some  personal  feelings ;  and  the 
written  slander  consisted  of  the  resolution  that  was 
passed,  and  the  verbal  slander  of  the  reasons  stated 
by  Dr.  Adams  for  believing  in  the  guilt  of  Mr.  Fair- 
child. 

"  The  cause  was  heard  before  referees  agreed  on  by 
the  parties,  and  several  very  interesting  questions 
arose  on  the  hearing.  Among  them  was  the  question 
to  what  extent  should  ministers  and  churches  be  influ 
enced  by  the  acquittal  of  a  man  charged  with  a  crime 
in  a  civil  court.  Mr.  Choate  contended  that  inasmuch 
as  the  rules  of  evidence  are  different  in  civil  and  eccle 
siastical  tribunals  ;  inasmuch  as  some  things  are  re 
garded  as  criminal  in  one  that  may  not  be  in  the  other  ; 
inasmuch  as  a  defendant  may  be  acquitted  by  the  jury 
from  mere  doubt,  or  from  collusion  of  the  party  with 
a  witness  who  suffers  his  testimony  to  be  broken  down, 
or  omits  to  disclose  the  whole  truth,  the  verdict  ought 
not  ipso  facto  to  restore  the  party,  but  should  only 
furnish  a  ground  of  consideration  for  action.  The  de 
bate  on  this  point  also  led  him  to  an  investigation  of 
the  constitution,  history,  and  usages  of  Congregational 
churches  and  associations  of  ministers. 

"  Another  question  was,  whether  associations  of 
ministers  had  power  to  expel  their  members  for  alleged 
offences,  without  being  held  in  an  action  of  slander  to 
prove  to  a  jury  that  the  party  is  guilty.  On  the  part 
of  Mr.  Fairchild,  it  was  contended  that  these  bodies 
had  no  privileges  in  this  respect  beyond  that  of  the 


1850-1855.]        CASE  OF  FAIRCHILD  v.  ADAMS.  241 

ordinary  slanderer,  who  utters  a  charge  of  crime 
against  his  neighbor  where  the  matter  does  not  concern 
him.  On  the  part  of  Dr.  Adams  it  was  contended 
that  the  case  came  within  the  class  called  privileged 
communications ;  that  is,  when  in  the  transaction 
of  business  or  the  discharge  of  a  duty,  one  person  has 
proper  occasion  to  speak  of  another,  and  in  good  faith 
and  without  malice  alleges  that  he  has  been  guilty  of 
a  crime.  In  such  cases  he  may  defend  himself  in  an 
action  for  slander  by  proving  that  he  thus  acted,  and 
without  proving  to  the  jury  that  the  accusation  is  true. 
The  discussion  of  this  question  led  to  an  investigation 
of  the  authorities  to  be  found  in  the  books  of  law  in 
reference  to  the  general  doctrine,  and  also  to  the 
nature  and  history  of  associations  of  ministers,  and 
their  relation  to  the  churches.  My  minutes  of  the 
points  and  authorities  are  pretty  full ;  but  they  would 
give  no  idea  of  the  style  and  manner  of  Mr.  Choate's 
argument. 

"  The  referees  were  of  opinion  that  associations  are 
privileged  to  inquire  into  the  conduct  of  their  mem 
bers,  and  in  good  faith  to  pass  votes  of  expulsion, 
stating  the  reasons  of  their  proceeding,  and  are  not 
responsible  to  legal  tribunals  for  the  accuracy  of  their 
conclusions.  They  were  satisfied  that  Dr.  Adams 
acted  in  good  faith,  and  made  an  award  in  his  favor, 
which,  after  argument,  was  sustained  by  the  Court. 
The  case  is  reported  in  11  Gushing,  549." 

In  May,  1851,  Mr.  Choate  argued  a  cause,  which, 
whether  estimated  by  the  interests  at  stake,  or  the 
signal  ability  of  the  counsel,  or  the  subtleness  of  the 
questions  at  issue,  would  undoubtedly  be  considered 
one  of  the  most  important  in  which  he  was  ever  en- 

16 


242  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

gaged.  It  was  that  generally  known  as  the  "  Method 
ist  rimrch  CUSP."  It  was  heard  in  Nc\v  York.  In-fore 
the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States,  Justices  Nelson 
and  Betts  presiding.  At  the  time,  it  was,  from  obvious 
reasons,  of  the  deepest  interest  to  the  whole  Methodist 
world  of  the  United  States,  and  although  it  concerned 
property  alone,  yet  the  members  and  presses  of  the 
Church  at  the  North  always  maintained  most  urgently, 
and  apparently  most  truthfully,  that  the  pecuniary  gain 
or  loss  was  quite  inconsequential ;  that  the  real  ques 
tion  was  whether  the  General  Conference  of  Churches 
could  lawfully  act  so  as  to  destroy  the  entirety  of  the 
Church ;  that  if  it  could  divide  the  Church  in  this  in 
stance,  there  was  no  limit  to  the  future  subdivisions 
that  might  be  made.  It  is,  also,  proper  to  state  that 
the  Church  at  the  North  was  anxious  to  harmonize  the 
existing  dispute,  and,  it  is  understood,  made,  as  they 
thought,  a  very  liberal  offer  of  compromise,  which  was 
rejected  by  the  Southern  Church. 

This  dispute  originated  in  that  prolific  source  of  ill, 
—  slavery.  Various  questions,  growing  out  of  the 
connection  of  the  Southern  Churchmen  with  slavery, 
had,  at  various  times,  arisen  in  the  Church r  leading  to 
a  growing  alienation  of  the  two  sections.  Finally,  at 
a  General  Conference  of  the  then  united  Church,  held 
at  New  York  in  June,  1844,  a  "  plan  of  separation  " 
was  drawn  up,  looking  to  a  final  division  of  the  Church, 
which,  among  other  matters,  provided  that  each  section 
of  the  country  should  have  its  own  Church,  independ 
ent  of  the  other ;  that  ministers  of  every  grade 
might  attach  themselves  without  blame  to  either 
Church,  as  they  preferred ;  that  a  change  of  the  first 
clause  of  the  sixth  restrictive  article  should  be  recom- 


1850-1855.]        METHODIST   CHURCH   CASE.  243 

mended,  so  as  to  read  :  "  They  shall  not  appropriate 
the  produce  of  the  Book  Concern  other  than  for  the 
benefit  of  travelling,  supernumerary,  superannuated, 
and  worn-out  preachers,  their  wives,  widows,  and 
children,  and  such  other  purposes  as  a  General  Con 
ference  may  determine  ; "  that  on  the  adoption  of  this 
recommendation  by  the  Annual  Conferences,  the  Nor 
thern  Agents  should  deliver  to  the  Southern  Agents 
so  much  of  certain  property  belonging  to  the  Church 
as  the  number  of  travelling  preachers  in  the  Southern, 
bore  to  the  number  of  the  same  class  in  the  Northern 
Church ;  that  all  the  property  of  the  Church  within 
the  limits  of  the  Southern  organization  should  be  for 
ever  free  from  any  claim  of  the  Church,  and  that  the 
Churches,  North  and  South,  should  have  a  right  in 
common  to  use  all  copyrights  of  the  New  York  and 
Cincinnati  "  Book  Concerns "  at  the  time  of  settle 
ment. 

Included  in  this  was  the  large  property  called  the 
"  Book  Concern,"  the  proceeds  of  which  were  to  be 
appropriated  as  the  change  in  the  first  clause  of  the 
sixth  article  above  stated  shows,  and  which  was  origi 
nally  instituted  by  that  class  which  is  now  its  bene 
ficiaries.  This  "  Book  Concern  "  was  vested  in  agents, 
and  against  them  this  action  was  brought  by  the 
Southern  agents  to  compel  a  delivery  of  their  share 
of  the  property. 

The  plaintiffs  maintained  that  the  resolutions  of  the 
General  Conference  were  of  binding  force,  and  that 
the  General  Conference  of  the  Southern  Church  had 
acted  upon  them  in  good  faith,  and  passed  resolutions 
declaring  the  expediency  of  separation  ;  and  that,  after 
this  action  of  the  Southern  Conference,  a  council  of 


244  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.         [Cnxr.  VIII. 

Northern  Bishops  met  at  New  York,  and  passed  reso 
lutions  ratifying  the  "  plan  "  of  the  General  Confer 
ence  of  1844,  regarding  it  as  of  binding  obligation. 

In  reply  to  this,  the  defendants,  admitting  many  of 
the  plaintiffs'  allegations,  rested  their  defence  mainly 
on  the  following  propositions  :  — 

1.  That  the  resolutions  of  the  General  Conference 
of  1844,  when  properly  understood,  do  not  impart  an 
unqualified  assent  of  that  body  to  a  division  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  into  two  separate  and  dis 
tinct  organizations  or  churches  ;  that  the  assent  there 
by  given  was  conditional  and  contingent,  and  that  the 
conditions  were  not  complied  with,  nor  has  the  con 
tingency  happened. 

2.  That,  if  otherwise,  the  General  Conference  was 
not  possessed  of  competent  power  and   authority  to 
assent  to  or  authorize  the  division.     And 

3.  That   the   division,  therefore,  which  took  place 
was  a  nullity,  and  the  separate  organization  a  wrongful 
withdrawal  and  disconnection  from  the  membership, 
communion,  and  government  of  the  Church,  by  reason 
of  which  the  travelling,  supernumerary,  and  worn-out 
preachers,  composing  the   separate   organization,  are 
taken  out  of  the  description  of  the  beneficiaries  of  the 
fund. 

The  decision  of  Justice  Nelson  was  adverse  to  the 
Northern  party  ;  and  this  view  was  subsequently  main 
tained  by  the  Supreme  Court  in  Washington. 

In  July  of  this  year  (1851),  Mr.  Choate  again  ad 
dressed  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge,  or  rather  "  The 
Story  Association,"  composed  of  the  past  and  present 
members  of  the  School.  And  here,  moved  by  the 
dangerous  heresies  which  seemed  to  him  too  familiarly 


1850-1855.]  ADDRESS   AT  CAMBRIDGE.  245 

received  in  the  community,  the  orator  urged  upon  the 
profession  the  new  duty,  as  he  called  it,  of  checking 
the  spirit  of  disloyalty,  by  correcting  the  public  judg 
ment,  —  by  enlightening  and  directing  the  public  sense 
of  right.  "  This  then,"  he  said,  "  is  the  new  duty,  the 
opus  aureum,  to  cherish  the  Religion  of  the  Law  —  to 
win  back  the  virtues  to  the  service  of  the  State,  and, 
with  Cicero  and  Grotius,  to  make  loyalty  to  Law  the 
fundamental  principle  in  each  good  man's  breast.  The 
capital  defect  of  the  day  is,  not  that  conscience  is  too 
much  worshipped,  but  that  it  is  not  properly  limited. 
Its  true  sphere  is  not  properly  seen  and  circumscribed. 
Men  think  that  by  the  mere  feeling  within  them  of  a 
sense  of  right,  they  can  test  great  subjects  to  which 
the  philosophy  of  ages  leads  the  way,  and  can  try  a 
grand  complex  polity,  embracing  a  multitude  of  inter 
ests  and  conflicting  claims  and  duties.  But  these 
ethical  politics  do  not  train  the  citizen  ab  extra  to  be 
enlightened  on  these  subjects. 

"  Morality  should  go  to  school.  It  should  consult 
the  builders  of  Empire,  and  learn  the  arts  imperial  by 
which  it  is  preserved,  ere  it  ventures  to  pronounce  on 
the  construction  and  laws  of  nations  and  common 
wealths.  For,  unless  the  generation  of  Washington 
was  in  a  conspiracy  against  their  posterity,  and  the 
generation  of  this  day,  in  high  and  judicial  station,  is 
in  the  same  plot,  the  large  toleration  which  inspires 
the  Constitution  and  the  Laws,  was  not  only  wise,  but 
was  indispensable  to  forming  or  keeping  any  union, 
and  to  the  prosperity  of  us  all. 

"  Let  the  babblers  against  the  laws  contemplate  Soc 
rates  in  his  cell  about  to  quaff  the  poison  which  Athens 
presented  to  him.  He  is  pleading  with  his  disciples 


246  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

for  the  sanctity  of  the  very  law  which  condemns  him : 
he  refuses  to  escape  ;  and,  <  after  a  brief  discourse  on 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,'  he  dies.  Let  them  learn, 
that  ere  laws  and  constitutions  can  be  talked  about, 
they  must  at  least  be  the  subject  of  a  special  study. 
Their  transcendental  philosophy  must  condescend  to 
study,  not  only  the  character,  but  even  the  temper,  of 
a  people,  and  this  not  a  priori,  but  as  it  appears  in  the 
local  press  and  public  demonstrations.  Then  they 
would  observe  that  there  are  three  great  things  adverse 
to  the  permanence  of  our  National  Government,  —  its 
recency,  its  artificial  structure,  and  the  peculiar  facilities 
which  the  State  organizations  afford  for  separation  ;  and 
from  this  study  they  would  learn  how  little  they  know 
what  a  work  it  was  to  found  and  keep  the  Republic  and 
its  laws.  c  Tantce  molis  erat  Romanam  condere  gentem* 
"  To  exercise  this  conservative  influence,  to  beget  a 
distrust  of  individual  and  unenlightened  judgment,  on 
matters  of  such  vast  import  and  extent,  and  to  foster  a 
religious  reverence  for  the  laws,  is  the  new  duty  which 
the  times  demand  of  the  legal  profession." 

"BOSTON,  11  October,  Saturday  evening. 

"  MY  DEAR  SON, —  I  get  so  little  time,  now  that  J.  is  gone, 
and  all  the  courts  are  sitting,  to  do  what  I  should  love  most 
to  do,  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  neglect  writing  at  the  very 
moment  when  letters  from  home  might  be  the  most  pleasant 
and  useful  to  you.  To-day  I  gain  a  little  respite,  and  feel  as 
if  I  must  send  you  my  love  if  no  more.  Your  letters  to  your 
mother  and  sisters  seem  to  show  you  happy  and  contented, 
yet  loving  to  think  and  hear  of  home.  So  I  hope  it  will  be 
through  your  whole  college  life.  If  now  we  can  continue  to 
hear  that  you  escape  all  the  sickness  of  college  —  remain  the 
same  true  and  good  boy  as  ever  —  with  a  little  more  develop 
ment  of  the  love  of  study  —  good  hooks  —  noble  examples  — 
and  true  excellence  —  our  happiness  for  the  present  would  be 


1850-1855.]  LETTERS   TO   HIS   SON.  247 

complete.  You  have  been  so  excellently  fitted,  that  I  know 
you  can  stand  high  in  the  class,  and  I  entreat  you  to  resolve 
—  not  by  foul  means  but  by  fair  —  to  win  such  prizes  as  those 
with  which  E.  gladdens  his  father's  and  sisters'  hearts.  All 
that  I  can  ever  do  for  you  is  —  if  I  live  (all  depends  on 
that) — to  afford  you  the  means  of  laying  a  foundation  for 
eminence  and  usefulness  —  by  scholarship.  If  you  neglect 
these,  all  is  lost.  But  I  am  sure  you  will  not.  I  hope  that 
you  will  from  the  start  cultivate  elocution.  The  power  of 
speaking  with  grace  and  energy —  the  power  of  using  aright 
the  best  words  of  our  noble  language  —  is  itself  a  fortune  — 
and  a  reputation  —  if  it  is  associated  and  enriched  by  knowl 
edge  and  sense.  I  would  therefore  give  a  special  attention 
to  all  that  is  required  of  you  in  this  department.  But  not 
one  study  prescribed  by  the  government  is  to  be  neglected. 
It  is  a  large  and  liberal  course,  and  fits  well  for  the  in 
troduction  to  a  really  solid  and  elegant  education.  Cultivate 
the  best  scholars  and  minds ;  and  while  you  treat  all  men  well, 
do  not  squander  time  on  shallow,  frivolous,  and  idle  boys. 

"  I  believe  my  library  has  received  its  last  finish  since  you 
were  here.  Next  to  my  whole  family,  here  and  elsewhere,  I 
love  it  best  of  all  things  of  earth,  and  wish  I  could  gain 
more  time  from  plaintiffs  and  defendants  to  give  to  its  solaces, 
utilities,  and  amenities. 

"  We  begin  to  count  the  weeks  to  your  first  return  !  Be 
most  prudent  to  avoid  the  sicknesses  you  speak  of  —  and  all 
things  else  that  shall  prevent  your  bringing  bank  the  bloom 
of  body  and  heart  which  you  carried  away.  Your  mother  is 
not  very  well,  but  sends  love  and  cautions,  as  do  the  sisters 
three.  Give  our  united  love  to  E.  and  tell  him  we  look  to 
him  for  our  son. 

"  YOUR  AFFEC.  FATHER." 


"  BOSTON,  6th  March,  1852. 

"Mr  DEAREST  RUFUS,  —  I  have  been  quite  unwell  fora 
fortnight  —  unusually  so  for  me  —  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
am  yet  wholly  restored.  In  the  intervals  of  sharp  neuralgic 
pains,  I  have  been  either  exhausted,  or  very  busy  ;  and  there 
fore,  although  my  thoughts  and  heart  have  been  very  much 
turned  towards  you,  I  have  not  been  able  to  write.  The  girls 
and  your  mother  have  given  you  my  love  —  but  neither  they 
nor  I  can  convey  any  idea  of  how  much  I  love  you;  how 


248  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

anxious  I  feel  for  your  true  and  best  good ;  and  how  inex 
pressibly  happy  I  shall  be  to  know  that  you  love  learning  ; 
love  honor,  character,  and  virtue  ;  and  have  energetically  and 
hopefully  set  out  on  the  career  of  usefulness  and  respecta 
bility.  "Sometimes  I  regret  that  I  did  not  incur  the  expense 
and  run  the  hazards  of  Cambridge,  that  we  might  see  your 
pleasant  face,  and  give  you  a  helping  hand,  and  a  pleasant 
family  welcome  once  a  week.  But  my  means  are  really  so 
small  —  depending  wholly  on  my  health  —  from  day  to  day, 
and  the  temptations,  and  general  influences  of  this  great 
school  so  severe  —  and  Amherst  promises  so  much  help  to 
studious  habits,  and  moral  dispositions,  that  we  have  plucked 
you  as  from  our  arms,  to  send  you  to  a  safer  and  more  beauti 
ful  spot.  I  hope,  my  most  dear  child,  all  our  wishes  will  be 
gratified  in  the  result. 

"  The  thing  I  most  of  all,  or  as  much  as  any  thing,  regret,  is 
that  I  cannot,  from  day  to  day,  go  over  with  you  the  studies 
of  the  day.  My  college  life  was  so  exquisitely  happy,  that  I 
should  love  to  relive  it  in  my  son.  The  studies  of  Latin  and 
Greek,  —  Livy,  Horace,  Tacitus  —  Xenophon,  Herodotus, 
and  Thucydides  especially,  —  had  ever  a  charm  beyond  ex 
pression  ;  and  the  first  opening  of  our  great  English  authors, 
Milton,  Addison,  Johnson,  and  the  great  writers  for  the 
Reviews,  made  that  time  of  my  life  a  brief,  sweet  dream. 
They  created  tastes,  and  supplied  sources  of  enjoyment, 
which  support  me  to  this  hour  —  in  fatigue,  ill-health,  and  low 
spirits  —  and  I  must  say  I  could  not  then,  and  cannot  now, 
look  with  a  particle  of  respect  or  interest  on  any  classmate 
who  did  not  relish  these  delicious  and  ennobling  sources  of 
scholarlike  enjoyment  and  accomplishment,  and  resolve  to  be 
distinguished  by  his  command  of  them. 

"  You  are  so  infinitely  better  fitted  for  college  than  I  was  — 
or  than  almost  any  in  your  class  can  be  —  that  I  am  sure  you 
can  lead  if  you  will  resolve  to  do  so.  Be  just  and  generous  to  all. 
Use  no  arts  to  supplant  others  with  the  government,  but  by 
study — persistent  and  habitual  —  give  me  the  supreme  grati 
fication  of  hearing  that  you  stand  in  good  conduct  as  you  did 
at  the  Latin  school  —  and  in  scholarship  among  the  foremost. 
Oh,  think  what  delight  you  will  give  us  all  to  know  that  the 
days  of  exhibition  in  your  class  are  days  your  mother,  sisters, 
and  I,  can  attend  with  pride  and  hope ! 

"  I  have  conceived  so  much  anxiety  about  my  health  —  for 
reasons  which  I  hardly  communicate  to  the  family  —  that  I 


1850-1855.]         WHIG  CONVENTION  OF  1851.  249 

seem  to  feel  that  at  any  moment  you  might  be  left  the  only 
support  of  those  you  love  so  dearly.  Such  an  event  would 
leave  you  all  poor.  Continue  to  be  then,  my  dear  son,  frugal, 
temperate,  and  thoughtful.  If  I  live,  I  hope  you  will  read 
the  law  with  me,  and  rise  to  its  honors ,  but  your  imme 
diate  sphere  of  duty  is  college  life,  and  through  th^t  I  am 
sure  you  mean  to  pass  with  distinction  and  safety. 

"I  have  sometimes  given  you  presents.  I  would 'coin  my 
heart  for  drachmas'  rather  than  that  you  should  want  the 
means  of  a  thorough  education ;  and  /  now  promise  you,  if 
you  will  bring  me  satisfactory  evidence  at  the  end  of  the  term, 
of  good  conduct,  and  high,  good  scholarship,  /  will  give  you 
the  most  valuable  gift  which  you  have  ever  yet  had,  or  had 
promised:  I  shall  not  tell  you  what. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Edward.  Pray  avoid  all  idle  and  all 
vicious  companions,  and  cultivate  the  ambitious,  studious,  and 
rising  —  rising  by  merit. 

"  I  want  you  to  write  me  a  full  letter,  telling  me  your 
daily  life  and  studies,  what  you  like  best,  and  why. 

"  Bless  you,  dear  son.  Your  father, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

During  the  years  1851  and  1852,  notwithstand 
ing  the  increasing  demands  of  his  profession,  Mr. 
Choate  continued  deeply  interested  in  national  politics. 
There  were  many  at  the  North  dissatisfied  with  the 
compromise  measures  of  1850,  and  alienated  from  Mr. 
Webster,  on  account  of  his  speech  on  the  7th  of  March. 
There  were  others  who  believed  those  measures  to  be 
in  general  wise  and  conciliatory,  and  that  Mr.  Webster 
never  assumed  a  position  more  dignified  and  patriotic, 
or  showed  a  more  profound  sense  of  the  demands  of 
the  whole  country.  The  Massachusetts  Whigs  of  this 
class  determined  to  call  a  public  meeting,  in  order  to 
present  to  the  country  the  name  of  that  great  states 
man  as  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency.  The  conven 
tion  was  held  on  the  25th  of  November,  1851,  and 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  largest,  most  respectable,  and 


250  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS    CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

most  enthusiastic  gatherings  of  the  year.  It  was  pre 
sided  over  by  Hon.  George  Ashmuii ;  and  the  princi 
pal  address  was  made  by  Mr.  Choate.  Of  all  the 
tributes  to  Mr._Wchster.  never  was  one,  more  hearty, 
more  sincere,  or  more  stirring  than  that  which  he  then 
delivered.  His  whole  soul  was  alive  with  his  theme. 
A  sense  of  the  injustice  which  that  great  statesman  had 
suffered  ;  of  the  angry  and  slanderous  attacks  made 
upon  him  by  the  little  and  malignant ;  of  the  insult 
which  one  of  the  boards  of  the  city  government  had  con 
trived  to  inflict  by  refusing  to  him — the  first  citizen  of 
the  State — permission  to  speak  in  Faneuil  Hall;  the 
ingratitude  with  which  many  at  the  North  had  requited 
his  long  and  arduous  and  grand  services, —  all  in 
spired  the  orator  to  a  strain  of  fervid  declamation, 
which  swept  the  vast  assembly  with  him  as  if  but  one 
spirit  moved  them  all. 

The  early  part  of  the  year  1852  was  marked  by 
nothing  of  peculiar  interest.  In  March  he  made  a 
powerful  argument  in  an  India-rubber  case,  in  Tren 
ton,  N.J.  Mr.  Webster  was  on  the  opposite  side  — 
one  of  his  latest  appearances  in  a  case  of  great  impor 
tance.  Mr.  Choate  was  said  to  have  surpassed  himself 
in  learning,  strength,  and  brilliancy  ;  but  of  the  argu 
ment,  as  of  the  great  majority  of  speeches  at  the  bar, 
absolutely  nothing  remains  —  ipsce  periere  ruincc. 

The  SHMg-Cozrvention  for  the  nomination  of  a  can 
didate  for  the  Presidency  —  the  last  National  Conven 
tion  of  the  party — met  in  Baltimore  on  Wednesday 
the  16th  of  June,  1852.  The  secret  history  of  it  is  yet 
to  be  written. 

The  place  of  meeting  was  a  spacious  hall.  The 
members  occupied  a  raised  platform  in  the  centre ; 


1850-1855.]    BALTIMORE  CONVENTION,  JUNE,  1852.         251 

spectators,  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  sat  upon 
benches  at  the  sides,  while  the  gallery  was  filled  with 
ladies.  Two  days  were  spent  in  effecting  an  organi 
zation,  and  preparing  a  series  of  resolutions.  It  was 
considered  doubtful  whether  a  platform  could  be  agreed 
upon,  binding  the  party  to  the  "  compromise  meas 
ures,"  as  they  were  called.  As  these  measures  were 
not  entirely  acquiesced  in  by  many  of  the  Northern 
members,  it  was  supposed  to  be  the  policy  of  some  to 
make  the  nomination  without  a  declaration  of  political 
sentiments  on  the  question  of  slavery,  and  then  to  re 
solve  that  no  such  declaration  was  necessary.  If  this 
were  the  plan,  it  did  not  succeed.  It  was  understood 
that  General  Scott  had  written  to  some  member  of 
the  Convention  assenting  to  these  "  measures,"  though 
for  some  reason  the  letter  had  not  been  produced.  The 
resolutions  were  at  length  read,  and  all  eyes  turned 
toward  the  seats  occupied  by  the  Massachusetts  dele 
gates.  Mr.  Choate  presently  rose ;  it  was  about  half- 
past  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday.  The 
thousand  fans  ceased  to  flutter,  and  the  hall  was  silent 
with  expectation.  He  began  in  a  quiet  manner,  as  he 
usually  did,  with  an  allusion  to  the  general  sentiment 
of  the  platform  itself,  and  then  broke  into  a  more  fer 
vent  strain  of  thanksgiving  to  God,  that  a  sentiment 
urged  before,  many  times  and  in  many  places,  seemed 
now  likely,  by  so  near  an  approach  to  unanimity,  to  be 
adopted  and  promulgated  by  that  authority,  among  the 
highest  which  he  recognized,  the  National  Whig  Party 
of  the  United  States,  in  General  Convention  assembled. 
"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  why  should  not  this  organ  of  one 
of  the  great  national  parties,  which,  pervading  the 
country,  while  they  divide  the  people,  confirm  the 


252  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CiiAr.  VIII. 

Union,  —  for  I  hold  that  these  party  organizations, 
wisely  and  morally  administered,  are  among  the  most 
powerful  instrumentalities  of  union,  —  here,  now,  and 
thus  declare,  that,  in  its  judgment,  the  furtlij^ agita 
tion  of  the  subject  of  slavery  be  excluded  from,  and 
forbidden  in,  the  national  politics?  Why  should  it 
not  declare  that  if  agitation  must  continue,  it  shall  be 
remitted  to  the  forum  of  philanthropy,  of  literature,  of 
the  press,  of  sectional  organization,  of  fanaticism, 
organized  or  unorganized  ;  but  that  the  Federal  Gov 
ernment  has  in  this  field  closed  its  labors  and  retires, 
leaving  it  to  the  firmness  of  a  permanent  Judiciary  to 
execute  what  the  Legislature  has  ordained  ? 

"  Why  should  we  not  engage  ourselves  to  the  finality 
of  the  entire  series  of  measures  of  compromise  ?  Does 
any  member  of  this  body  believe  that  the  interests  of 
the  nation,  the  interests  of  humanity,  our  highest  in 
terests,  our  loftiest  duties,  require  an  attempt  to  dis 
turb  them  ?  Was  it  needful  to  pass  them  ?  Did  not 
a  moral  necessity  compel  it  ?  Who  now  doubts  this  ? 
I  do  not  deny  that  some  good  men  have  done  so,  and 
now  do.  I  am  quite  well  aware  that  fanaticism  has 
doubted  it,  or  has  affected  to  doubt  it,  to  the  £iid  that 
it  may  leave  itself  free,  unchecked  by  its  own  con 
science,  to  asperse  the  motives  of  the  authors  and 
advocates  of  this  scheme  of  peace  and  reconciliation, 
—  to  call  in  question  the  soundness  of  the  ethics  on 
which  it  rests,  and  to  agitate  for  ever  for  its  repeal. 
But  the  American  people  know,  by  every  kind  and 
degree  of  evidence  by  which  such  a  truth  ever  can  be 
known,  that  these  measures,  in  the  crisis  of  their  time, 
saved  this  nation.  I  thank  God  for  the  civil  courage, 
which,  at  the  hazard  of  all  things  dearest  in  life,  dared 


1850-1855.]  SPEECH  IN  BALTIMORE.  253 

to  pass  and  defend  them,  and  6  has  taken  no  step  back 
ward.'  I  rejoice  that  the  healthy  morality  of  the 
country,  with  an  instructed  conscience,  void  of  offence 
toward  God  and  man,  has  accepted  them.  Extremists 
denounce  all  compromises,  ever.  Alas  !  do  they  re 
member  that  such  is  the  condition  of  humanity  that 
the  noblest  politics  are  but  a  compromise  —  an  approx 
imation  —  a  type  —  a  shadow  of  good  things  —  the 
buying  of  great  blessings  at  great  prices  ?  Do  they 
forget  that  the  Union  is  a  compromise ;  the  Constitu 
tion —  social  life,  —  that  the  harmony  of  the  universe 
is  but  the  music  of  compromise,  by  which  the  antago 
nisms  of  the  infinite  Nature  are  composed  and  recon 
ciled  ?  Let  him  who  doubts  —  if  such  there  be  — 
whether  it  were  wise  to  pass  these  measures,  look  back 
and  recall  with  what  instantaneous  and  mighty  charm 
they  calmed  the  madness  and  anxiety  of  the  hour ! 
How  every  countenance,  everywhere,  brightened  and 
elevated  itself!  How,  in  a  moment,  the  interrupted 
and  parted  currents  of  fraternal  feeling  reunited  !  Sir, 
the  people  came  together  again,  as  when,  in  the  old 
Roman  history,  the  tribes  descended  from  the  mount 
of  secession, — the  great  compromise  of  that  constitu 
tion  achieved,  —  and  flowed  together  behind  the  eagle 
into  one  mighty  host  of  reconciled  races  for  the  con 
quest  of  the  world. 

"  Well,  if  it  were  necessary  to  adopt  these  measures, 
is  it  not  necessary  to  continue  them  ?  In  their  nature 
and  office,  are  they  not  to  be  as  permanent  as  the  an 
tagonisms  to  which  they  apply  ?  Would  any  man  here 
repeal  them  if  he  could  command  the  numerical  power  ? 
Does  he  see  any  thing  but  unmixed  and  boundless 
evil  in  the  attempt  to  repeal  them?  Why  not,  then, 


254  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CIIOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII 

declare  the  doctrine  of  their  permanence  ?  In  the 
language  of  Daniel  Webster,  4  Why  delay  the  decla 
ration  ?  Sink  or  swiin,  live  or  die,  survive  or  perish, 
I  am  for  it.' 

"  Sir,  let  me  suggest  a  reason  or  two  for  this  for 
mality  of  announcement  of  such  a  declaration  in  such 
a  platform.  In  the  first  place,  our  predecessors  of  the 
Democratic  Convention,  in  this  hall,  have  made  it  in 
dispensable.  If  we  do  not  make  it  as  comprehensive 
and  as  unequivocally  as  they  have,  we  shall  be  ab 
sorbed,  scattered  !  —  absorbed  by  the  whirlpool,  — 
scattered  by  the  whirlwind  of  the  sentiment  of  nation 
ality  which  they  have  had  the  sagacity  to  discern  and 
hide  under.  Look  at  their  platform,  and  see  what  a 
multitude  of  sins  of  omission  and  commission,  bad 
policy  and  no  policy,  the  mantle  of  national  feeling  is 
made  not  ungracefully  to  cover.  And  remember  that 
you  may  provide  a  banquet  as  ample  as  you  will ;  you 
may  load  the  board  with  whatever  of  delicacy  or  neces 
sity  ;  you  may  declare  yourselves  the  promoters  of 
commerce,  wheresoever,  on  salt  water  or  fresh  water, 
she  demands  your  care ;  the  promoters  of  internal 
improvements,  —  of  the  protection  of  labor,  promising 
to  the  farmer  of  America  the  market  of  America,  —  of 
peace  with  all  nations,  entangling  alliances  with  none, 
-of  progress,  not  by  external  aggression,  but  by 
internal  development ;  spread  your  board  as  tempt 
ingly  as  you  will,  if  the  national  appetite  does  not 
find  there  the  bread  and  water  of  national  life,  the 
aliment  of  nationality,  it  will  turn  from  your  provisions 
in  disgust. 

"  Again  :  some  persons  object  to  all  such  attempt  so 
give  sacredness  and  permanence  to  any  policy  of  gov- 


1850-1855.]  SPEECH  IN  BALTIMORE.  255 

ernment,  or  any  settlement  of  any  thing  by  the  people. 
They  object  to  them  as  useless,  as  unphilosophical,  as 
mischievous.  The  compromise  measures  are  nothing, 
they  say,  but  a  law  ;  and,  although  we  think  them  a 
very  good  law,  yet  better  turn  them  over  to  the  next 
elections,  the  next  Presidential  canvass,  the  next  ses 
sion  of  Congress,  to  take  their  chance.  If  they  are  of 
God,  of  nature,  of  humanity,  they  will  stand  anyhow  ; 
and  if  not,  they  ought  not  to  stand. 

"  I  am  not  quite  of  this  opinion.  I  know,  indeed, 
how  vain  it  is  to  seek  to  bind  a  future  generation,  or 
even  a  future  day.  I  see  the  great  stream  of  progress 
passing  by,  on  which  all  things  of  earth  are  moving. 
I  listen,  awe-struck,  to  the  voice  of  its  rushing.  Let 
all  who  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear,  see  and 
hear  also.  Still  I  believe  something  may  be  done  at 
favorable  junctures  to  shape,  color,  confirm  even,  so 
capricious  and  so  mighty  a  thing  as  public  opinion. 
This  is  the  theory  on  which  written  constitutions  are 
constructed.  Why  such  toil  on  these,  unless  in  the 
belief  that  you  may  and  should  seek  to  embody  and 
fix  an  important  agreement  of  the  national  mind,  — 
may  for  a  little  space  moor  the  ship  against  the  stream, 
and  insure  that  when  she  is  swept  from  that  mooring, 
she  may  not  be  instantly  shattered,  but  float  with 
some  safety,  and  under  some  control,  to  the  ocean  ? 

"  I  believe,  and  have  many  times  asserted  and 
enforced  the  idea,  that  if  the  two  great  national  parties 
would  now,  in  this  most  solemn,  public,  authoritative 
manner,  unite  in  extracting  and  excluding  this  busi 
ness  of  the  agitation  of  slavery  from  their  political 
issues,  —  if  they  would  adjudge,  decree,  and  proclaim 
that  this  is  all  a  capital  on  which  a  patriotic  man,  or 


256  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

body  of  men,  may  not  trade  ;  that  the  subject  is  out 
of  the  domain  of  politics,  disposed  of  by  the  higher 
law  of  a  common  national  consent,  founded  on  a 
regard  for  the  common  good,  —  and  that  if  they  would 
go  into  the  coming  and  all  contests  upon  their  proper 
and  strict  political  issues,  each  contending  with  the 
other  only  for  the  glory  of  a  greater  participation  in 
the  compromise,  much  would  be  done  to  perpetuate 
the  national  peace  within,  which  we  now  enjoy. 
Whatever  the  result  of  the  canvass,  and  however  se 
verely  it  might  be  conducted,  it  would  be  one  great  ju 
bilee  of  Union,  in  which  the  discordant  voice  of  sections 
and  fanaticism  would  be  silenced  or  unheard. 

"Let  me  trouble  you  with  one  more  reason  for  adopt 
ing  this  compromise.  Sir,  let  us  put  it  out  of  our 
power  to  be  tempted,  in  the  excitement  of  this  election, 
to  press  the  claims  of  our  candidate  in  one  part  of  the 
country  on  the  ground  that  his  success  will  extinguish 
agitation,  and  to  press  the  claims  of  the  same  candidate 
in  another  part  of  it  on  the  ground  that  his  success 
will  promote  agitation.  As  gentlemen  and  men  of 
honor  and  honest  men,  let  us  take  the  utmost  security 
against  this.  Who  does  not  hang  down  his  head  in 
advance  with  shame,  at  the  fraud  and  falsehood  exem 
plified  in  going  into  one  locality  and  crying  out  of  the 
Northern  side  of  our  mouths, '  No  platform !  —  agita 
tion  for  ever  !  —  ours  is  the  candidate  of  progress  and 
freedom  ! '  And  then  going  into  another  and  shouting 
through  the  Southern  side, '  All  right !  —  we  are  the 
party  of  compromise !  —  we  have  got  no  platform,  to 
be  sure,  but  Mr.  So-and-so  has  got  a  first-rate  letter  in 
his  breeches-pocket,  and  Mr.  So-and-so  is  vehemently 
believed  to  have  one  in  his, — either  of  them  as  good 


1850-1855.]     BALTIMORE   CONVENTION,  JUNE,  1852         257 

as  half  a  dozen  platforms.'  Pray,  if  you  love  us,  put 
us  into  no  such  position  as  this.  Lead  us  not  into 
such  temptation,  and  deliver  us  from  such  evil.  How 
much  better  to  send  up  the  Union  flag  at  once  to  each 
masthead,  blazing  with  '  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and 
for  ever,  one  and  inseparable,'  and  go  down  even  so !  " 
The  effect  of  this  speech  upon  the  audience,  who  fre 
quently  interrupted  him  with  enthusiastic  applause,  was 
indescribable.  After  the  cheering  had  somewhat  sub 
sided,  remarks  were  made  by  several  members  of  the  Con 
vention,  and  a  running  conversation  for  some  time  kept 
up  concerning  the  letter  of  General  Scott,  till  finally 
one  was  produced  and  read.  Mr.  Botts,  of  Virginia,  in 
the  course  of  his  remarks  criticised  Mr.  Choate  for  an 
implied  imputation  upon  General  Scott,  and  an  implied 
commendation  of  Mr.  Webster.  He  closed  by  asking 
whether  he  should  move  the  adoption  of  the  resolutions 
and  call  for  the  previous  question,  saying,  however, 
that  he  would  not  do  so,  even  at  the  request  of  the  en 
tire  Convention,  if  the  gentleman  from  Massachusetts 
felt  aggrieved  at  his  remarks  and  desired  to  respond. 
There  were  loud  cries  for  "  Choate."  "First,"  says 
one  who  was  present,  "  by  his  friends  of  the  Conven 
tion,  then  by  his  partisans  on  the  floor,  and  then  by 
the  gay  galleries.  The  chorus  was  immense,  impera 
tive,  and  determined."  After  some  hesitancy  he  at 
last  rose,  and  in  a  tone  of  imperial  grace  said,  "I  shall 
endeavor*  to  keep  within  the  rule  laid  down  by  the 
chairman.  I  beg  to  assure  gentlemen  that  nothing  in 
the  world  was  further  from  my  intention  than  to  enter 
upon  any  eulogy  of  that  great  man,  my  friend  of  so 
many  years,  whose  name  is  as  imperishably  connected 
with  a  long  series  of  all  the  civil  glories  of  his  country 

17 


258  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VIII. 

as  it  is  with  this  last  and  greatest  of  his  achievements. 
I  assure  you,  Sir,  upon  my  honor,  and  I  assure  the 
gentleman  from  Virginia  on  my  honor  also,  that  I  rose 
solely  and  simply  to  express,  in  the  briefest  possible 
terms,  the  convictions  of  myself  and  of  many  gentlemen 
here  on  the  merits  of  the  general  subject  itself,  without 
appreciating  what  possible  influence  the  remarks  I 
might  submit  would  exert  on  the  chances  of  this,  that, 
or  the  other  eminent  person  for  receiving  the  nomina 
tion  of  the  Convention." 

Being  interrupted  here  by  a  question  from  Mr.  Botts, 
"  Whether  he  understood  the  gentleman  rightly  as 
saying  that  he  did  not  mean  to  depreciate  any  other 
candidate,  when  speaking  of  that  one  who  was  his  first 
choice,"  he  proceeded,  "  I  meant  to  present  a  sound 
argument  to  the  Convention,  to  the  end  that  this  Con 
vention  might  stand  committed  as  men  of  honor  every 
where.  I  say  here  and  everywhere,  give  us  that  man, 
and  you  will  promote  peace  and  suppress  agitation  ; 
and  if  you  give  us  any  other,  you  have  no  assurance  at 
all  that  that  agitation  will  be  suppressed. 

"  I  am  suspected  of  having  risen  to  pay  a  personal 
compliment  to  that  great  name  with  which  I  confess 
my  heart  is  full  to  bursting,  because  I  stand  here,  ac 
cording  to  my  measure,  to  praise  and  defend  the  great 
system  of  policy  which  the  unanimous  judgment  of  this 
Convention  has  approved,  or  is  about  to  approve  and 
promulgate.  Ah,  Sir,  what  a  reputation  that  must  be, 
—  what  a  patriotism  that  must  be,  —  what  a  long  and 
brilliant  series  of  public  services  that  must  be,  when 
you  cannot  mention  a  measure  of  utility  like  this  but 
every  eye  spontaneously  turns  to,  and  every  voice 
spontaneously  utters,  that  great  name  of  DANIEL  WEB 
STER  ! 


1850-1855.]  SPEECH  AT  BALTIMORE.  259 

"  I  have  done,  Sir.  I  have  no  letter  to  present, 
written  last  week,  or  the  week  before  last.  Mr.  Web 
ster's  position  on  this  question  dates  where  the  peace 
of  the  country  had  its  final  consummation,  on  the  Tth 
of  March,  1850. 

"  But,  Sir,  I  did  not  intend  .to  electioneer  in  the 
slightest  degree.  If  my  friend  from  Virginia  will  recall 
the  course  of  my  observations,  he  will  find  that  I  con 
fined  myself  exclusively  to  the  defence  of  the  measure 
itself.  But  so  it  is  that  there  is  some  such  reputation 
that  you  cannot  stand  up  and  ask  for  glory  and  bless 
ing,  and  honor  and  power,  or  length  of  days  upon 
America,  but  you  seem  to  be  electioneering  for  that 
great  reputation." 

The  scene  that  followed  was  one  of  intense  enthusiasm. 
Bouquets  were  thrown  at  the  feet  of  the  orator,  and 
every  demonstration  made  which  could  indicate  homage 
and  delight.  All  were  amazed  at  the  ingenuity  of  the 
speech  as  well  as  captivated  by  its  eloquence.  The 
platform  was  adopted  by  a  vote  of  227  to  66. 

There  was  another  speech  made  by  Mr.  Choate  dur 
ing  the  sitting  of  the  Convention,  at  a  private  enter 
tainment  given  by  the  Massachusetts  members  to  some 
of  those  from  the  South-west,  which  is  said  to  have 
produced  the  greatest  delight  and  enthusiasm.  The 
gathering  was  arranged  with  the  hope  that  it  might 
lead  the  Southerners  to  cast  their  votes  for  Mr.  Web 
ster.  Mr.  Choate  had  not  been  consulted;  the  heat  of 
the  weather  was  intense,  and  he  had  gone  to  bed  with 
a  sick-headache.  One  of  his  friends  went  to  him  and 
asked  him  to  be  present.  "  It  is  impossible,"  he  re 
plied,  "  I  am  too  ill  to  hold  up  my  head.  I  have  not 
strength  to  say  a  word."  He  was  told  that  he  need 


r 


260  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

say  but  little,  and  that  it  was  for  Mr.  Webster,  —  his 
last  chance  of  influencing  the  delegates  in  favor  of  that 
just  and  grand  nomination.  On  this  view  of  the  case 
he  immediately  assented,  rose  and  went  to  the  table. 
He  was  too  unwell  to  take  any  thing,  and  spoke  but 
about  fifteen  minutes.  I  have  never  heard  what  he 
said  ;  it  may  be  imagined  by  those  who  knew  his  love 
for  Mr.  Webster,  and  his  deep  sense  of  the  injustice 
likely  to  be  done  him ;  but  it  carried  away  that  little 
audience  as  with  a  whirlwind.  They  seemed  half  be 
side  themselves,  —  sprang  from  their  seats,  jumped 
upon  the  chairs  and  benches,  broke  their  glasses,  and 
acted  like  wild  men.  But  the  efforts  of  the  friends  of 
Mr.  Webster  were  without  avail.  The  Southern  mem 
bers  offered  to  come  with  one  hundred  and  six  votes, 
when  forty  votes  should  be  obtained  from  the  North ; 
but  so  firmly  determined  were  some  of  the  Northern 
delegates,  that  this  number  could  not  be  found.  The 
vote  for  Mr.  Webster  never  exceeded  thirty-two.  At 
the  fifty-third  ballot  Gen.  Scott  received  the  nomination. 

In  August,  1852,  Mr.  Choate  addressed  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Society  of  the  University  of  Vermont,  on  the 
"  Intervention  of  the  New  World  in  the  affairs  of  the 
Old;  —  the  Duty,  the  Limitations,  and  .the  Modes." 
It  was  high-toned,  conservative,  and  wise.  The  subject 
was  suggested  by  recent  events  in  the  East,  and  espe 
cially  by  the  visit  of  Kossuth  to  this  country.  The 
oration  opened  with  the  following  tribute  to  the  eloquent 
Hungarian. 

"  To  his  eye  who  observes  the  present  of  our  own 
country,  and  of  the  age,  needfully,  —  looking  before 
and  after,  every  day  offers  some  incident  which  first 
awakens  a  vivid  emotion,  and  then  teaches  some  great 


1850-1855.]  PHI  BETA  KAPPA   SOCIETY.  261 

duty.  Contemplate,  then,  a  single  one  of  such  a  class 
of  incidents;  give  room  to  the  emotions  it  stirs;  gather 
up  the  lessons  of  which  it  is  full. 

"  On  the  fifth  day  of  the  last  December,  there  came 
to  this  land  a  man  of  alien  blood,  of  foreign  and  unfa" 
miliar  habit,  costume,  and  accent ;  yet  the  most  elo 
quent  of  speech,  according  to  his  mode,  —  the  most 
eloquent  by  his  history  and  circumstances,  —  the  most 
eloquent  by  his  mission  and  topics,  whom  the  world 
has,  for  many  ages,  seen  ;  and  began  among  us  a  brief 
sojourn, —  began,  say  rather,  a  brief  and  strange, 
eventful  pilgrimage,  which  is  just  now  concluded. 
Imperfect  in  his  mastery  of  our  tongue,  —  he  took  his 
first  lessons  in  the  little  room  over  the  barrack-gate 
of  Buda,  a  few  months  before,  —  his  only  practice  in  it 
had  been  a  few  speeches  to  quite  uncritical  audiences 
in  Southampton,  in  Birmingham,  Manchester,  and 
Guildhall ;  bred  in  a  school  of  taste  and  general  cul 
ture  with  which  our  Anglo-Saxon  training  has  little 
affinity  and  little  sympathy ;  the  representative  and 
impersonation,  though  not,  I  believe,  the  native  child, 
of  a  race  from  the  East,  planted  some  centuries  ago  in 
Europe,  but  Oriental  still  as  ever,  in  all  but  its  Chris 
tianity  ;  the  pleader  of  a  cause  in  which  we  might 
seem  to  be  as  little  concerned  as  in  the  story  of  the 
lone  Pelops  or  that  of  Troy  divine,  coming  before  us 
even  such  —  that  silver  voice,  that  sad  abstracted  eye, 
before  which  one  image  seemed  alone  to  hover,  one 
procession  to  be  passing,  the  fallen  Hungary  —  the 
'  unnamed  demigods,'  her  thousands  of  devoted  sons ; 
that  earnest  and  full  soul,  laboring  with  one  emotion ; 
has  held  thousands  and  thousands  of  all  degrees  of 
susceptibility  ;  the  coldness  and  self-control  of  the  East 


262  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

—  the  more  spontaneous  sympathies  of  the  West  — 
the  masses  in  numbers  without  number  —  Women  — 
Scholars  — our  greatest  names  in  civil  places  —  by  the 
seashore — in  banquet  halls — in  halls  of  legislation  — 
among  the  memories  of  Bunker  Hill,  everywhere,  he 
has  held  all,  with  a  charm  as  absolute  as  that  with 
which  the  Ancient  Mariner  kept  back  the  bridal  guest 
after  the  music  of  the  marriage  feast  had  begun. 

"  The  tribute  of  tears  and  applaudings ;  the  tribute  of 
sympathy  and  of  thoughts  too  deep  for  applaudings,  too 
deep  for  tears,  have  attested  his  sway.  For  the  first  time 
since  the  transcendent  genius  of  DEMOSTHENES  strove 
with  the  downward  age  of  Greece  ;  or  since  the  Proph 
ets  of  Israel  announced  —  each  tone  of  the  hymn 
grander,  sadder  than  before  —  the  successive  footfalls  of 
the  approaching  Assyrian  beneath  whose  spear  the  Law 
should  cease  and  the  vision  be  seen  no  more ;  our  ears, 
our  hearts,  have  drunk  the  sweetest,  most  mournful, 
most  awful  of  the  words  which  man  may  ever  utter,  or 
may  ever  hear  —  the  eloquence  of  an  Expiring  Nation. 
"  For  of  all  this  tide  of  speech,  flowing  without  ebb, 
there  was  one  source  only.  To  one  note  only  was  the 
harp  of  this  enchantment  strung.  It  was  an  appeal  not 
to  the  interests,  not  to  the  reason,  not  to  the  prudence, 
not  to  the  justice,  not  to  the  instructed  conscience  of 
America  and  England ;  but  to  the  mere  emotion  of 
sympathy  for  a  single  family  of  man  oppressed  by  another 
—  contending  to  be  free  —  cloven  down  on  the  field,  yet 
again  erect;  her  body  dead,  her  spirit  incapable  to  die; 
the  victim  of  treachery;  the  victim  of  power ;  the  victim 
of  intervention ;  yet  breathing,  sighing,  lingering,  dy 
ing,  hoping,  through  all  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  an  agony 
of  glory  !  For  this  perishing  nation — not  one  inhabi- 


1850-1855.]  JOURNEY  TO  QUEBEC.  263 

taut  of  which  wo  ever  saw  ;  on  whose  territory  we  had 
never  set  a  foot ;  whose  books  we  had  never  read ;  to 
whose  ports  we  never  traded  ;  not  belonging  in  an 
exact  sense  to  the  circle  of  independent  States  ;  a  prov 
ince  rather  of  an  Empire  which  alone  is  known  to  in 
ternational  law  and  to  our  own  diplomacy  ;  for  this 
nation  he  sought  pity  —  the  intervention,  the  armed 
intervention,  the  material  aid  of  pity ;  and  if  his  au 
diences  could  have  had  their  will,  he  would  have  ob 
tained  it,  without  mixture  or  measure,  to  his  heart's 
content ! 

"  When  shall  we  be  quite  certain  again  that  the  lyre 
of  Orpheus  did  not  kindle  the  savage  nature  to  a 
transient  discourse  of  reason,  —  did  not  suspend  the 
labors  and  charm  the  pains  of  the  damned,  —  did  not 
lay  the  keeper  of  the  grave  asleep,  and  win  back  Eury- 
dice  from  the  world  beyond  the  river,  to  the  warm, 
upper  air  ? 

"  And  now  that  this  pilgrimage  of  romance  is  ended, 
the  harp  hushed,  the  minstrel  gone,  let  us  pause  a 
moment  and  attend  to  the  lessons  and  gather  up  the 
uses  of  the  unaccustomed  performance." 

Immediately  after  this  college  anniversary  he  made 
a  brief  journey  to  Quebec,  going  along  the  accustomed 
line  of  travel  by  Montreal  and  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
retracing  his  way  along  the  same  line  quite  to  New 
York.  This  naturally  led  him  to  the  places  distin 
guished  in  the  earlier  wars,  at  most  of  which  he 
stopped,  refreshing  and  verifying  his  knowledge,  kin 
dling  anew  his  patriotism  at  every  hallowed  spot,  from 
the  Falls  of  Montmorenci,  and  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson.  The  weather  was  de 
lightful,  and  the  trip  altogether  invigorating  to  both 
body  and  mind. 


204  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

In  the  fall  of  this  year,  the  country  suffered  a  loss, 
the  greatness  of  which  time  alone  can  disclose.  Mr. 
Choate  felt  it  not  only  as  an  irreparable  public  calamity, 
but  as  a  personal  bereavement,  for  which  there  was  no 
remedy. 

From  the  Baltimore  Convention  the  friends  of  Mr. 
Webster  returned  with  an  uncontrollable  feeling  of 
disappointment  and  with  a  deep  sense  of  wrong.  But 
before  the  day  of  election,  he,  for  whom  they  had 
struggled,  had  closed  his  eyes  for  ever  upon  this  earth. 
Mr.  Webster  died  on  the  24th  of  October.  On  the 
28th,  the  members  of  the  Suffolk  Bar  presented  to  the 
United  States  Circuit  Court,  then  in  session,  a  series 
of  resolutions  expressive  of  their  sense  of  the  loss, 
and  Mr.  Clioate  with  other  eminent  lawyers  addressed 
the  court.  He  spoke  with  entire  quietness  of  manner, 
and  with  the  deepest  feeling,  and  his  words  seem  to 
contain  the  germs  of  almost  all  the  eulogies  afterwards 
pronounced  upon  the  great  New  England  statesman. 

As  soon  as  a  sense  of  propriety  would  allow,  Mr. 
Choate  received  solicitations  from  very  respectable 
bodies  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  to  deliver  a 
more  formal  and  extended  eulogy.  He  accepted  that 
which  came  first,  from  the  Faculty  and  Students  of 
Dartmouth  College,  influenced  still  more,  perhaps,  by 
his  deep  and  truly  filial  affection  for  the  place.  After 
the  announcement  of  this  was  made  public,  he  received 
a  letter  from  a  gentleman  in  Connecticut,  suggesting 
resemblance  between  Mr.  Webster  and  some  other 
eminent  men,  particularly  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The  fol 
lowing  is  his  answer :  — 


1850-1855.]  LETTER  TO  E.  JACKSON.  265 


To  E.  JACKSON,  ESQ.,  Middletown,  Conn. 

"  BOSTON,  10th  Dec.  1852. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  was  extremely  struck  and  gratified  by 
the  kindness  of  your  note  to  me,  and  by  the  parallel  which 
it  suggested  and  pursued.  Scarcely  any  thing  in  literary  or 
public  biography  is  more  curious  or  just.  I  mentioned  the 
thought  to  Mr.  Curtis,  —  Geo.  T.  Curtis,  —  on  whom  it 
made  instantly  the  same  impression.  I  think  the  patriotism 
of  Fox  was  less  trustworthy  (having  regard  to  his  stormy 
ambition),  and  his  character  less  balanced  and  dignified.  He 
had  less  eloquent  feeling  too,  and  less  poetical  feeling,  and  no 
veneration,  and  his  whole  intellectual  toil  was  one  mighty 
tempestuous  debate.  In  naturalness,  warmth  of  heart,  and 
prodigious  general  ability  in  political  affairs  and  public  speech, 
he  does  remind  us  of  Mr.  Webster. 

"  But  to  Scott  the  likeness  is  quite  remarkable.  I  can  add 
nothing  to  your  conception  of  it,  —  but  of  that  I  shall  trj  to 
profit.  Mr.  Curtis  told  me  that  '  if  Mr.  Jackson  could  have 
heard  Mr.  Webster's  conversations  with  regard  to  keeping 
the  Marshfield  estate  in  the  family,  he  would  have  been  more 
forcibly  reminded  of  Scott.'  Both  felt  the  desire  to  be  found 
ers  ;  neither  won  fortune,  nor  transmitted  inheritances  in 
lands.  Both  made  deep  and  permanent  impressions  wholly 
useful  on  their  time  and  the  next ;  and  both  linked  themselves 
—  shall  we  say  for  ever  ?  —  to  the  fondest  affections  as  well  as 
reasonable  regards  of  very  intellectual  races. 

"  I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  servant  and  friend, 

"RuFUS  CHOATE." 

The  treatment  which  Mr.  Webster  received  at  the 
Baltimore  Convention  had  alienated  many  Whigs  at 
the  North,  and  inclined  them  to  vote  for  the  Demo 
cratic  electors.  Mr.  Choate's  position  will  be  indicated 
by  the  following  letter  :  — 

"  To  HARVEY  JEWELL,  ESQ.,  President  of  the  Young  Men's  Whig  Club. 

"  BOSTON,  30th  October,  1852. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  certainly  can  have  no  unwillingness  to 
repeat  quite  formally,  what  I  have  informally  said  so  many 
times  to  so  many  of  our  friends. 


266  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

u  That  I  regretted  very  keenly  our  failure  to  place  Mr. 
Webster  in  nomination,  I,  of  course,  have  never  disguised. 
So  much,  too,  did  I  love  him,  and  so  much,  so  filially  —  per 
haps  for  him  so  unnecessarily  —  desire,  that  in  all  things  his 
feelings  might  be  respected,  his  claims  acknowledged,  and  the 
effect  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Convention  on  him  mitigated, 
that,  although  I  have  ever  deemed  those  proceedings  as  oblig 
ing  my  vote  as  a  Whig,  yet  I  had  decided  that  it  w&uld  not 
be  decorous  or  right,  having  respect  to  those' relations  with 
him,  which  have  been  and  are  in  their  memory  so  dear  to  me, 
to  take  any  active  part  in  setting  on  the  head  of  any  other 
the  honors  which  he  had  earned. 

"  But  that  the  true  interests  of  the  country,  as  our  party  has 
ever  apprehended  those  interests,  require,  in  the  actual  cir 
cumstances,  the  election  of  the  eminent  person  who  is  our 
regular  candidate,  I  cannot  doubt.  As  a  Whig,  still  a  Web 
ster  Whig,  —  standing  at  his  grave  and  revering  his  memory, 
I  think  that  more  of  his  spirit,  more  of  his  maxims  of  govern 
ment,  more  of  his  liberal  conservatism,  more  peace,  a  more 
assiduous  culture  of  that  which  we  have,  with  no  reckless 
grasping  for  that  which  we  have  not,  would  preside  in  the 
administration  of  Gen.  Scott  than  in  that  of  his  Democratic 
competitor  for  the  Presidency. 

"  There  are  good  men  who  esteemed  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr. 
Clay  so  highly  and  justly,  as  to  hope  that  while  they  lived, 
although  out  of  office,  their  counsels  would  still  be  of  power 
to  repress  the  tendencies  to  evil,  which  they  fear  from  the 
ascendency  of  our  political  opponents.  But  now  that  those 
lights  are  passed  and  set,  must  we  not  all,  and  those  of  us 
with  a  special  solicitude,  who  followed  them  with  most  confi 
dence,  turn  to  others,  whose  associations  and  ties  of  party, 
whose  declared  opinions,  whose  conduct  of  affairs  and  whose 
antecedents  afford  the  surest  trust  that  their  practical  politics 
will  be  those  which  we  have  so  advisedly  adopted,  and  so 
long  professed  ?  With  these  politics,  and  the  great  party  rep 
resenting  them,  Gen.  Scott  is  identified.  His  election  would 
pledge  his  character  and  honor  to  seek  through  them,  and  by 
them,  the  common  good  and  general  welfare,  and  there  is  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  the  convictions  of  his  judgment  would 
guide  him  by  the  same  path.  Certainly  he  is  a  Whig ;  and 
he  has  rendered  the  country  great  services,  in  important  con 
junctures,  in  war  and  peace. 

"  It  is  quite  needless  to  say,  then,  that  I  shall  vote  for  the 


1850-1855.]  LETTER   TO   MRS.  EAMES.  267 

regularly  nominated  Whig  ticket  of  electors.  He,  —  the 
best  beloved,  the  most  worthy,  —  is  in  his  grave.  Duty  sub 
sists,  still  and  ever,  and  I  am  entirely  persuaded  that  duty 
requires  of  me  this  vote. 

"  I  am,  respectfully,  your  obd't  serv't, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

The  regular  correspondents  of  Mr.  Choate  were  few. 
He  had  not  much  time  to  give  up  even  to  that  society 
which  was  most  attractive.  Of  those  to  whom  he 
wrote  with  the  freedom  of  a  warm  and  sympathizing 
friendship  were  Hon.  Charles  Eames  and  Mrs.  Eames. 
A  few  of  these  letters  have  been  kindly  placed  at  my 
disposal. 

"BOSTON,  Dec.  4th,  1852. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  E.,  —  ...  You  were  wholly  right, 
and  not  the  less  kind,  to  assume  an  explanation  of  my  silence 
consistent  with  my  fixed  and  enhancing  appreciation  of  your 
friendship.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  been  here  occasionally  and  hurriedly  only,  since 
I  last  wrote  you  ;  but  my  chief  time  and  duties  have  been 
engaged  to  my  mother,  on  the  verge  of  a  timely  grave,  yet  sick 
beyond  the  mere  inflictions  of  eighty  years.  She  is  living  yet, 
and  better.  .  .  . 

"  Till  yesterday  I  had  nourished  a  secret,  but  great  thought 
of  just  running  on  to  Washington  for  four  days,  not  to  super 
sede,  but  to  prepare  for  my  January  visit.  Likewise,  I  could 
not  go.  ... 

"  I  am  to  congratulate  you,  and  Mr.  Eames,  personally,  on 
the  election  which  he  has  influenced  so  much.  May  every 
reward  he  would  seek  be  his.  Choose  wisely  and  well,  and 
above  all  fix  your  hearts  on  something  at  home.  But  why 
should  I  grudge  you  the  Fortunate  Isles,  the  Boulevards, 
Damascus  rose  cinctured,  if  you  wish  it  ?  Give  my  love  to 
him.  Wish  Mr.  Davis  and  Mr.  Everett  well.  '  Pray  (as 
poor  Mr.  Webster  said)  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem,'  and 
especially  for  your  attached  friend, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

Early  in  1853,  Mr.  Choate  lost  his  aged  and  vener 
able  mother.  He  always  detained  for  her  the  most 


268 


MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 


filial  respect  and  affection,  and  although  her  death,  at 
her  advanced  age,  was  not  unexpected,  it  filled  him 
with  deep  sorrow.  Almost  at  the  same  time  he  re 
ceived  from  Governor  Clifford  the  offer  of  the  Attorney- 
Generalship  of  the  State.  This  he  accepted,  not  for 
its  emoluments,  —  which  were  inconsiderable,  while 
the  labor  was  great,  —  but  partly  because  he  con 
sidered  it  an  honorable  position,  and  in  part  because 
he  was  desirous  of  being  freed  from  a  certain  class  of 
distasteful  cases  which  he  did  not  feel  quite  at  liberty 
to  decline.  The  great  labor  in  this  office  arose  from 
the  fact  that  judicial  interpretation  of  the  liquor  law 
of  1852,  popularly  called  the  "  Maine  Law,"  became 
necessary,  and  a  large  number  of  cases  came  under 
his  charge  for  argument,  some  of  them  involving  grave 
constitutional  questions.  To  the  study  of  these  cases 
he  devoted  much  time  and  labor.  The  criminal  nisi 
prius  trials  he  disliked  ;  and  this,  together  with  certain 
mere  drudgeries  of  office,  caused  him  to  resign  his 
commission  after  holding  it  a  little  more  than  a  year. 

On  the  3d  of  May,  1853,  the  third  convention  of  the 
delegates  of  the  people  of  Massachusetts  met  in  Bos 
ton  to  revise  the  Constitution  of  the  State.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  an  abler  body  of  men  ever  assembled 
in  the  State.  Every  county  sent  its  best  and  wisest 
citizens.  The  convention  continued  its  sessions  till  the 
1st  of  August.  The  subjects  brought  into  discussion 
were  fundamental  to  the  being  and  prosperity  of  States. 
In  this  dignified  and  weighty  assembly  Mr.  Choate 
spoke  on  some  of  the  most  important  questions,  and 
never  without  commanding  the  highest  respect.  His 
speeches  on  the  Basis  of  Representations,  and  on  the 
Judiciary  were  listened  to  with  profound  interest,  and 


1850-1855.]      EULOGY  ON  DANIEL   WEBSTER.  269 

will  rank  with  the  best  specimens  of  deliberative  elo 
quence. 

During  this  summer,  and  in  the  midst  of  various 
distracting  public  and  professional  duties,  he  caught 
time  as  he  could,  for  preparing  the  eulogy  upon  Mr. 
Webster.  How  he  wrote  it  may  be  inferred  from  a 
little  anecdote  furnished  by  one  who  subsequently  be 
came  a  member  of  his  family  by  marrying  his  youngest 
daughter.1  "  I  returned  from  Europe,"  he  says,  "  in 
1853,  and  reached  Boston  the  7th  of  July.  I  went  to 
Mr.  Choate's  house  about  9  o'clock  that  evening,  and 
found  him  in  his  chamber  reclining  in  bed  in  a  half- 
sitting  posture.  On  his  knees  rested  an  atlas,  lying 
obliquely ;  in  his  left  hand  he  held  a  lamp,  while 
another  was  balanced  on  a  book ;  in  his  right  hand 
was  his  pen.  He  playfully  excused  himself  for  not 
shaking  hands  with  me,  saying  that  he  feared  the  sharp 
reproaches  of  Mrs.  C.  if  he  should  by  any  mischance 
spill  the  oil.  On  my  asking  him  what,  at  that  time  of 
night,  and  in  that  singular  position,  he  was  doing,  he 
said  he  was  trying  to  get  a  few  things  together  to  say 
at  Dartmouth  College  in  relation  to  Mr.  Webster.  He 
had  put  it  off  so  long,  he  said,  was  so  hampered  with 
work  at  his  office,  and  had  to  give  so  much  time  to 
the  Constitutional  Convention,  then  in  session,  that  he 
had  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  write  to  the  officers 
of  the  college  asking  to  be  let  off.  '  If  I  deliver  it,' 
he  added,  '  it  will  be  wholly  inadequate  to  the  theme.' 
He  did  deliver  it,  however,  but  he  said  to  me  the  day 
before  he  went  to  Dartmouth,  that  any  friend  of  his 
would  stay  away,  for,  although  so  much  time  was  given 
to  write  it  in,  it  was  one  of  the  most  hurried  things  he 
had  ever  done." 

1  Edward  Ellerton  Pratt,  Esq. 


270  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  VIII. 

With  tlic  high  ideal  that  was  before  his  mind,  to 
him  "much  meditating"  on  the  greatness  of  Mr. 
Webster,  and  feeling  how  interwoven  was  his  life  with 
the  later  history  of  the  country,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  he  felt  the  insufficiency  of  any  eulogy.  Yet  one 
would  be  at  a  loss  to  know  where,  in  all  the  records  of 
such  eloquence,  for  fulness,  suggestiveness,  and  dis 
crimination,  for  richness  and  vitality,  for  beauty  of 
language  and  felicity  of  allusion,  for  compactness  and 
for  amplification,  to  find  another  to  equal  it. 

To  HIS  DAUGHTER  SARAH. 

"Monday,  August,  1853. 

"DEAR  SALLIE,  —  The  accompanying  letter  came  to  me 
to-day,  and  I  send  it  with  alacrity.  I  wish  you  would  study 
calligraphy  in  it,  if  what  I  see  not  is  as  well  written  as  what 
I  do.  I  got  quietly  home,  to  a  cool,  empty  house,  unvexed 
of  mosquito,  sleeping  to  the  drowsy  cricket.  It  lightened  a 
little,  thundered  still  less,  and  rained  half  an  hour  ;  but  the 
sensation,  the  consciousness  that  the  Sirian-tartarean  summer 
is  really  gone  —  though  it  is  sad  that  so  much  of  life  goes 
too  —  is  delightful.  Next  summer  will- probably  be  one  long 
April  or  October.  By  the  way,  the  dream  of  the  walnut 
grove  and  the  light-house  is  finished.  They  will  not  sell, 
and  the  whole  world  is  to  choose  from  yet.1  I  see  and  hear 
nothing  of  nobody.  I  bought  a  capital  book  to-day  by  Bun- 
gener,  called  *  Voltaire  and  his  Times,'  fifty  pages  of  which 
I  have  run  over.  He  is  the  author  of  '  Three  Sermons  under 
Louis  XV./  and  is  keen,  bright,  and  just,  according  to  my 
ideas,  as  far  as  I  have  gone.  My  course  this  week  is  rudely 
broken  in  upon  by  the  vileness  and  vulgarity  of  business, 
and  this  day  has  been  lean  of  good  books  and  rich  thoughts, 
turning  chiefly  on  whether  charcoal  is  an  animal  nuisance, 
and  whether  Dr.  Manning's  will  shall  stand.  Still,  Rufus  will 
be  glad  to  hear  I  read  my  JEschines  and  Cicero  and  German 
Martial,  and,  as  I  have  said,  this  Bungener. 

u  I  wish  you  would  all  come  home ;  that  is,  that  your  time 
had  arrived.  Pick  up,  dear  daughter,  health,  nerves,  and 

1  Referring  to  a  project  of  purchasing  a  site  for  building  at  Essex. 


1850-1855.]  LETTER   TO   MRS.  EAMES.  271 

self-trust,  and  come  here  to  make  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
glorious  summer. 

"  Thank  your  dear  mother  and  Rufus  for  their  letters.  I 
hope  for  Minnie  a  neck  without  a  crick,  and  a  lot  without  a 
crook,  if  one  may  be  so  jinglesome.  One  of  the  Choates  of 
Salem  called  in  my  absence  —  if  Daniel  did  not  see  a  doppel- 
gcinger,  in  a  dream  —  but  which,  where  he  is,  what  he  wants, 
where  he  goes,  or  how  he  fares,  I  know  not.  I  would  invite 
him  to  dine,  if  I  knew  where  he  was.  Best  love  to  all. 
Tell  your  mother  I  don't  believe  I  shall  write  her  for  two  or 
three  days,  but  give  her,  and  all,  my  love.  I  like  the  court 
house  prospect  and  the  Bucolical  cow,  and  verdant  lawn  much, 
as  Minnie  says.  Good-by,  all.  R.  C." 

During  this  fall,  his  health,  which,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  severe  headaches,  had  been  generally  good, 
occasioned  himself  and  his  friends  some  anxiety.  He 
alludes  to  it  in  the  following  letters  :  — 

To  MRS.  EAMES. 

"  BOSTON,  13th  Nov.  1853. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  EAMES,  —  ...  I  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  going  just  now  to  New  York,  arid  then  taking  a  flying 
aim  at  Washington.  The  Doctors  and  I  have  changed  all 
that,  and  resolved  that  instead  of*  any  such  unsatisfactory 
splurging,  I  should  go  quietly  to  Washington,  like  a  grave 
citizen  and  elderly  lawyer,  and  make,  as  it  were,  a  business  of 
it,  see  my  friends,  try  a  case,  go  to  the  theatre  and  the  levee, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,  say  in  December  or  January.  ...  I 
have  come  quite  near  being  placed  among  'the  Emeritus  Pro 
fessors  in  the  great  life  university,  that  reserved  and  lament 
able  corps,  whose  '  long  day  is  done,'  and  who  may  sleep. 

"  There  again  the  Doctors  and  I  were  too  much  for  them, 
and  I  am  all  right  again,  with  injunctions  to  do  but  little,  nor 
do  that  little  long,  at  a  time.  Such  a  change  of  life  sets  me 
thinking,  which  is  disagreeable,  and  resolving,  which  only 
paves  bad  places  with  good  intentions.  .  .  . 

"  I  must  say  I  think  your  administration  —  toil  though  it 
Hoes  and  spin  —  is  not  yet  arrayed  with  all  the  glory  of 
Solomon,  or  even  of  the  lilies  of  the  field. 

"  Yours  truly,  "  R.  CHOATE." 

"  P.S.  —  Mr.  Everett  is  rising  in  my  telescope." 


272  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

To  MRS.  EAMES. 

"  BOSTON,  17th  Dec.  1853. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  EAMES,  —  I  took  the  liberty  yesterday  to 
address  to  you  the  first  two  volumes  of  Lord  J.  Russell's 
4  Moore,'  and  to  ask  our  Little  and  Brown  to  include  it  in 
their  collections  for  the  Washington  Express.  Mine  I  have 
not  yet  received,  but  I  promise  myself  that  the  thing  will 
have  some  interest  with  those  old  people  at  least  who  began 
life,  as  I  did,  upon  '  I  saw  from  the  beach,'  '  Vale  of  Avoca,' 
'  Erin  go  Bragh,'  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Whether  it  will  for 
you,  I  fear  and  doubt,  yet  you  will  agree  that  we  have  never 
seen  and  never  shall  see  any  thing  like  that  glorious  constella 
tion  of  poets  which  illustrated  the  first  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years  of  this  century,  and  which  has  set  to  the  last  star. 
Beaming  brightly  and  singing  like  a  seraph,  sometimes,  among 
these  lights  was  poor  Moore.  Therefore  1  hope  the  package 
will  go  safely  and  come  regularly  to  hand,  as  the  merchants' 
clerks  do  write. 

"  My  visit  to  Washington  recedes  like  any  horizon.  Mr. 
Davis  has  me  in  charge,  but  any  time  after  the  10th  of  Janu 
ary,  if  he  bids  me  come,  I  come.  Please  to  entreat  him  to 
hasten  that  day,  as  he  hopes  to  have  his  eulogy  read  and  ap 
preciated. 

"  Our  winter  has  come  frosty  but  kindly.  Thus  far,  as  a 
mere  matter  of  cold,  heat,  snow,  it  is  as  good  as  a  Washing 
ton  winter.  I  do  not  say  that  it  presents  just  the  same  ag 
gregate  and  intensity  of  moral,  social,  and  personal  interest. 

*4  Please  give  my  best  regards  to  Mr.  Eames  and  all  friends. 
"  Most  truly  yours,  R.  CIIOATE." 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Everett  (then  a  member 
of  the  United  States  Senate),  with  its  reference  to 
topics  of  great  national  importance  will  explain  itself: 

To  Hox.  EDWARD  EVERETT. 

"  BOSTON,  4th  Feb.  1854. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  not  delayed  to  answer  your  letter 
for  want  of  interest  in  the  subject,  and  still  less  from  want  of 
strong  personal  desire  that  your  own  course  should  be  as  for 
tunate  as  it  will  be  conspicuous  and  influencive.  But  in 
truth,  1  did  not  know  enough  of  the  whole  ground  of  opinion 


1850-1855.]      LETTER  TO  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR.  273 

and  duty  and  hazards,  to  make  my  suggestions  of  real  value, 
and  yet,  jzood  for  nothing  else,  they  might  mislead.  Mean 
time,  as  far  as  I  can  possibly  discern,  the  whole  free  world 
of  the  United  States  seems  likely  to  demand  the  observance 
of  the  Missouri  Compromise.  I  must  say,  that  I  think  that  a 
speech  and  a  course  adhering  to  that  great  adjustment,  and 
reconciling  that  with  the  compromises  of  1850,  will  be  claimed 
here,  and  I  should  be  amazed  and  grieved,  if  this  could  do 
harm  anywhere.  Yet  for  myself,  I  should  consult  the  spirit 
of  the  proceeding  of  1850  and  execute  that,  whithersoever  it 
led.  But  I  cannot  yet  see  how  that  should  demand  such  a 
measure  as  this  of  Mr.  Douglas. 

"  The  result,  with  me  and  with  all  here,  is  that  we  feel  the 
deepest  solicitude  that  you  should  not  be  drawn  into  a  position 
which  can  impair  your  large  prospects,  and  that  we  hope  you 
may  defeat  the  further  extension  of  slavery  on  grounds  and  by 
reasonings  that  will  not  lose  you  one  American  heart  or  judg 
ment  anywhere.  I  am  most  truly, 

"  Your  servant  and  friend, 

*"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

A  few  letters  here  to  his  son,  then  a  student  in  Am- 
herst  College,  and  to  his  daughter  Sarah,  will  give  us 
an  insight  into  the  thoughts  and  ways  of  home. 

To  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR. 
"  BOSTON,  Feb.  13,  1854.     Monday  morning,  six  o'clock. 

"Mr  DEAREST  SON,  —  I  am  afraid  the  elite  of  Amherst 
are  not  stirring  quite  so  early  as  this,  but  as  my  writing  here 
by  my  lamp  does  not  disturb  you,  and  as  I  think  of  you  al 
ways,  but  with  peculiar  interest  and  love  when  I  look  round 
my  study  at  this  early  hour,  I  will  say  a  word  while  M.  is 
waiting  for  the  coach  to  carry  him  to  the  Portland  cars. 

"  I  have  had  a  very  fatiguing  winter,  contending  —  as  the 
French  bulletins  used  to  say  when  badly  beaten  — '  with  vari 
ous  success.'  However,  I  have  had  my  share  of  causes,  and 
my  chief  grief  after  S.'s  sickness,  has  been  that  I  have  had  so 
little  time  for  literary  readings.  Euripides  stands  neglected  on 
the  shelf,  Alcestis  dying  alone,  and  the  last  days  of  Augustus 
are  as  if  Tacitus  had  not  recorded  them  with  his  pen  of  steel. 
You  are  happier  in  having  days  arid  nights  for  the  most  de 
lightful  of  all  things,  the  studies  of  college.  My  dear  son, 

18 


274  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

make  much  of  this  fleeting  hour,  and  all  future  exertions  and 
acquirements  will  be  easy.  .  .  .  To  see  you  come  out  of  col 
lege  affectionate,  true,  pure,  and  a  good  scholar,  to  begin  the 
law  at  Cambridge  with  hope  and  ambition,  is  the  desire  which 
more  than  all  else  gives  interest  to  my  future.  .  .  .  M.  has 
gone.-  Daniel  appears  with  the  newspapers ;  it  approaches 
sunrise,  and  I  must  turn  to  prepare  for  *  Gray  et  al.  r.  Co- 
burn,'  for  the  hour  and  a  quarter  before  breakfast.  Good-by." 


To  HIS  DAUGHTER  SARAH. 

"  BOSTON,  9  July  [1854], 

"  DEAREST  SALLIE,  —  I  was  delighted  to  find  your  letter 
and  mother's  on  my  return  from  the  broiled,  though  sea-girt 
Nan  tucket.  I  will  not  say  that  1  could  read  a  word  of  it, 
before  the  affectionate  and  craving  Helen  carried  it  off, — 
snatched  it,  as  one  may  say,  from  the  unsated  parental  jaws. 
But  at  dinner  with  her  to-day  I  shall  recover  it  interpreted. 

"  I  am  sorry  the  geography  is  a  failure.  Astronomy  and 
St.  Pierre  —  stars  and  harmonies  of  earth,  I  hope  will  enable 
you  to  support  the  necesary  delay  in  finding  another.  Mean 
time  the  Russian  war  is  going  to  end ;  the  Turkish  moons  are 
at  the  full ;  and  except  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  no  spot  of 
earth  has  a  particle  of  interest  adscititious,  present,  and  tran 
sient  —  though  all  must  be  generally  known,  or  '  history  her 
ample  page  rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,'  inadequately  unrolls. 
I  much  fear  that  we  are  doomed  to  more  of  Malte  Brun  and 
of  the  crust  of  the  earth.  I  will  look,  however. 

"  I  am  rebuked  at  finding  that  the  great  treatises  on  Will 
and  Sin  were  not  written  at  West  Stockbridge,  after  all.  It 
follows,  first,  that  so  much  of  our  ride  was  what  Kufus  calls 
a  sell;  secondly,  that  the  most  arrogant  memories  will  fail  — 
be  nonplussed  —  the  characters,  the  imagery,  as  Locke  says, 
fading  out  of  this  brass  and  marble  ;  and  thirdly,  that  all  ex 
ternal  beauty  of  scenery  is  mainly  created  and  projected  from 
within.  How  still  and  studious  looked  West  Stockbridge  — 
and  now  what  a  poor,  little,  half-starved  saw-mill  of  a  situation 
it  is  ! 

'  The  disenchanted  earth  lost  half  its  lustre ; 
The  great  magician's  dead/ 

I  will  be  confident  of  nothing  again  —  <  that's  Pozj  as  Miss 
Ed^eworth's  story  —  or  somebody's,  has  it. 


1850-1855.]      LETTERS   TO  RUFUS   CHOATE,  JR.  275 

"  Sallie,  if  it  is  cool  in  Lenox  —  if  there  is  one  cool  spot ; 
yea,  if  there  is  a  place  where  by  utmost  effort  of  abstraction, 
you  can  think  upon  the  frosty  Caucasus  ;  upon  the  leaves  of 
aspen  in  motion  ;  upon  any  mockery  or  mimicry  of  coolness 
and  zephyrs,  be  glad.  Our  house  glows  like  a  furnace  ;  the 
library  seems  like  a  stable  of  brazen,  roasting  bulls  of  Pha- 
laris,  tyrant  of  Agrigentum — of  whom  you  read  in  De  Quin- 
cey ;  and  I  woo  sleep  on  three  beds  and  a  sofa  in  vain.  All 
would  be  sick  here  —  and  I  already  am,  or  almost  so. 

"  I  hope  the  Astronomy  engages  you,  and  the  St.  Pierre. 
Botany  and  other  natural  history  will  soothe  you,  dear  child, 
when  the  burning  and  suggestive  words  of  mere  literature 
sting  as  serpents.  Good-by,  dearjille.  R.  C." 


To  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR. 

"  BOSTON,  19  July,  1854. 

"  DEAREST  SON, —  I  was  grieved  when  I  got  home  to  find 
what  an  inhospitable  time  you  had  of  it.  If  you  had  hinted 
your  purpose,  Helen  surely  would  have  welcomed  you.  I 
could  not,  for  I  was  melting  beneath  the  Nantucket  court 
house.  Next  time  let  us  know,  that  we  may  make  your 
shortest  vacation  pleasant.  Yesterday  I  ought  to  have  been 
at  Washington.  What  they  have  done  I  know  not.  If  my 
friends  carried  an  adjournment  it  is  well.  If  not,  the  Library 
fuit,  as  the  expressive  perfect  tense  has  it. 

"  I  was  very  sorry  that  I  could  not  stay  longer  in  your  poor 
little  pleasant  room,  and  seem  to  get  more  into  your  college 
intimate  life.  It  glides  away  so  fast,  and  is  so  delightful  a 
portion  of  the  whole  term  of  life,  that  I  should  envy  every 
day  and  hour.  I  prized  mine.  Yet  now,  as  the  poet  says,  it 
is  my  grief  that  I  prized  it  no  more.  .  .  .  They  will  rejoice 
to  see  you  at  Lenox,  where  I  hope  to  meet  you.  The  cool 
weather  of  the  4th  continues,  and  seems  likely  to,  till  men 
call  on  Caucasus  to  bury  them  and  done  with  it. 


To  RUFUS  CHOATE,  JR. 

"  BOSTON,  24  Sept.  [1854.] 

"My  DEAR  DEAR  SON,  —  You  were  very  good  to  write 
me,  and  if  I  had  not  been  rather  harder  at  work  than  ever 


276  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

before,  I  should  have  written  sooner.  I  have  jnst  finished  an 
insurance  trial  of  some  ten  or  eleven  days,  very  scraggly  and 
ticklish  —  though  a  just  claim  —  and  won  it,  against  a  very 
strong  charge  of  the  judge.  Then  came  another  insurance 
cause  where  J.  and  I  were  for  the  office,  deft.  —  and  had  the 
luck  to  get  that  too,  in  three  or  four  hours.  I  had  to  snatch 
any  moment  to  write  a  little  address  for  Danvers.  Altogether, 
therefore,  I  am  utterly  prostrated  and  unstrung.  I  would 
give  a  thousand  dollars,  if  I  could  afford  it,  for  an  undisturbed 
rest  of  a  week.  The  house  is  now  in  most  perfect  order.  If 
dear  mother,  Sallie,  Minnie,  and  you  were  here,  it  would  be 
more  perfect  even. 


To  HIS  DAUGHTER  SARAH. 

"Sept.  [1854.] 

"MY  DEAR  SALLIE,  —  You  were  a  special  good  girl  to 
write  me  —  pausing  among  so  many  grand  spectacles,  laugh 
ing  girls,  and  moustached  artists  —  if  that  is  the  French  of  it 
—  and  I  should  have  written  before  if  I  had  not  been 
4  blowed.'  I  was  4  overworked '  for  about  twelve  days,  and  up 
to  yesterday  morning,  when  I  came  out  of  the  pestilential 
court-house  to  compose  an  address  on  Knowledge,  for  Danvers. 
The  topic  is  new  and  the  thoughts  rise  slowly  and  dubious. 
However,  I  shall  go  through  this  also  —  as  a  thief  through  a 
horse-pond  —  in  the  simile  of  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow. 

"  The  autumn  here  now  outshines  itself.  Such  skies  and 
such  unblanched  green  leafiness,  and  occasional  peach  and 
plum,  I  have  never  seen.  Our  grapery  is,  as  it  were,  Floren 
tine  and  Mantuanical ;  but  for  mere  eating  I  have  preferred 
such  as  you  buy  of  the  common  dealers  in  the  article.  Lately 
1  have  given  no  dinners.  I  have  in  fact  for  ten  days  not 
dined  at  home,  but  at  the  restaurant.  To-morrow  I  hope  to 
be  at  home.  I  never  saw  the  house  so  clean,  lovely,  still,  and 
homelike.  They  have  washed  every  thing  —  unless  it  is 
Cicero  and  Demosthenes,  and  it  seems  to  me  their  very  bronze 
seems  sleek,  fleshly,  and  cleansed.  My  books  are  all  bound, 
and  all  up  —  and  if  mother  and  you  were  here,  and  Minnie, 
and  I  could  rest,  rest,  rest,  one  day  —  one  week  —  stock  still 
—  still  as  a  '  statute '  —  I  should  be  too  happy. 

"  I  have  just  written  your  mother  suggesting,  1st,  whether 
she  is  ever  coming  home  ;  2d,  when,  if  ever,  she  is  coining  ; 
3d,  what  money  it  will  take  to  come,  to  bring  honey,  also  you, 
and  any  *  Jew  or  Jewess.' 


1850-1855.]  LETTER  TO  MRS.   EAMES.  277 

"  Good-by,  poor  dear  roe,  hart,  and  pelican  upon  the  moun 
tains.  I  look  at  the  picture  in  the  dining-room  daily,  and 
wonder  if  you  see  sights  so  brilliant  and  light  —  then  turn 
again  to  my  baked  apple,  farina,  or  what  not. 

"  Good-by,  dear  pet.  I  have  had  three  nights  to  sleep  in 
your  room.  All  well  at  Helen's.  Your  Voter" 

In  September,  1854,  Mr.  Choate  delivered  the  ad 
dress  at  the  dedication  of  the  Peabody  Institute  in 
South  Danvers.  This  institution  was  founded  by  the 
munificence  of  Geo.  Peabody,  Esq.,  of  London,  and 
from  the  first  was  regarded  with  great  interest  by  Mr. 
Choate,  who  watched  with  sincere  pleasure  the  pros 
perity  of  the  town  where  he  commenced  his  professional 
life,  and  which  conferred  upon  him  his  first  honors. 
The  year  was  otherwise  filled  with  the  ordinary  labors 
of  the  law. 

In  the  mean  time  his  friend  Mr.  Eames  had  been  ap 
pointed  Minister-Resident  at  Caraccas. 

To  MR  EVERETT. 

"  Winthrop  Place,  Oct.  9,  1854. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  invitation, 
and  should  have  the  truest  pleasure  in  accepting  it,  hut  I  am 
so  much  the  victim  of  an  urgent  and  ignominious  malice  —  as 
Mr.  S.  Smith  might  say,  —  that  I  am  cruelly  forbidden  all 
such  opportunity. 

"  You  are  more  than  kind  to   the    Danvers    affair.     And 
really,  because  one  is  not  an  Academician,  is  he  not  therefore 
to  be  indulged  in  his  occasional  platitudes  and  commonplaces  ? 
"  I  am  most  truly 

"  Your  servant  and  friend, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 


To  MRS.  EAMES. 

"Boston,  31st  Oct.  1854. 

"  MY    DEAR     MRS.    EAMES,  —  I    have    been    imagining 
through   all   these  divine  days,  how   supreme  must  be  the 


278  MEMOIR   OF  RLTFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  VIII. 

beauty  on  all  things  about  you  —  and  have  sighed  for  the 
sight  of  all  that  scene  in  your  company  again.  Meanwhile 
the  leaf  falls,  arid  the  last  lark  will  send  up  his  note  of  fare 
well  ;  the  school-ma'am  will  have  recovered,  and  the  school- 
house  will  be  coming  alive  with  the  various  hubbub  of  child 
hood,  and  the  time  draws  on  when  you  will  go,  perhaps  to  look 
back  from  a  grander  Nature  to  that  plain  ]NTew  England  soli 
tude  which  you  have  found,  and  made,  so  delightful  —  to  look 
back  homesick  and  with  affectionate  sadness.  ... 

"  I  have  seen  Mr.  Everett  once,  and  had  a  most  pleasant 
hour  —  not  unmingled  with  pain.  He  looks  despomlingly  out 
ward  ;  and  I  think  his  personal  hopes  are  turning  from  poli 
tics  and  their  bubble  reputation.  In  his  library,  he  seems  to 
sit  above  all  annoyance,  at  the  centre  of  all  reasonable  felici 
ties  —  a  happy  and  great  character,  who  may  yet  write  his 
name  for  ever  on  our  history. 

"  I  hope  all  your  little,  and  thrice  dear  children  are  well, 
and  give  you  no  alarm.  They  seem  well,  happy,  and  of  rare 
goodness  and  interest.  If  it  should  so  happen  that  I  can  by 
any  possibility  see  you  and  Mr.  Eames  before  you  go  —  if  go 
you  must  —  I  mean  to  do  it  —  here  —  or  at  New  Braiutree, 
or  in  New  York.  .  .  . 

"  Yours  truly, 

«  R.  CHOATE." 

Notwithstanding  his  labors  and  periodical  suffering 
from  sick-headaches,  Mr.  Choate's  general  health  was 
good.  A  strong  constitution  and  vigorous  frame  en 
abled  him  to  endure  a  vast  amount  of  work  without  in 
jury.  But  early  in  1855  he  met  with  an  accident 
which  confined  him  for  several  months  to  his  house 
and  for  much  of  the  time  to  his  room.  While  at  Ded- 
ham  during  the  trial  of  a  cause,  he  hit  his  knee  against 
the  corner  of  a  table.  This  brought  on  an  inflamma 
tion  of  the  joint,  which  became  complicated  with  other 
ailments,  to  which  time  only  could  bring  relief.1  Dur- 

1  As  a  result  of  the  accident,  he  was  obliged"  to  submit  to  a  slight 
surgical  operation  ;  but  so  sensitive  was  he  to  physical  suffering,  that 
even  this  made  a  considerable  draft  upon  his  nervous  energies.  He 


1850-1855.]      LETTER   TO  HON.  CHARLES  EAMES.          279 

ing  this  period  of  seclusion,  he  was  not  cut  off  from  the 
solace  of  his  library,  nor  entirely  unable  to  study.  He 
never  more  fully  enjoyed  the  society  of  his  friends,  giv 
ing  himself  up  freely  to  those  whom  he  loved.  Mr. 
Everett  particularly,  used  to  visit  him  regularly  two 
or  three  times  a  week,  sometimes  to  bring  a  new  book, 
sometimes  to  impart  intelligence,  not  generally  known, 
always  to  bring  sunlight  to  the  quiet  library  of  the  in 
valid.  So  much  interested  had  both  become  in  this 
unwonted  familiarity,  that  on  Mr.  Choate's  resuming 
his  professional  labors,  Mr.  Everett  remarked  to  him, 
that,  for  his  own  sake,  he  could  only  wish  one  thing, 
namely,  that  he  might  hurt  his  knee  again.  To  that 
friendly  interest  Mr.  Choate  alludes  in  one  of  the  follow 
ing  letters,  both  bearing  the  same  date  :  — 

To  HON.  CHARLES  EAMES. 

"  Boston,  29th  June,  1855. 

"DEAR  MR.  EAMES,  —  I  doubt  if  you  see  a  brighter  sun 
or  drink  a  balmier  air  than  I  do  to-day,  but  I  hope  you  are 
as  well  as  the  rosy-fingered  June  of  New  England  could  make 
you.  Our  summer,  they  say,  is  cool  and  backward ;  but 
whoso  desires  any  thing  diviner  than  this  morning  may  go 
farther  and  fare  worse. 

"  I  thank  you  and  Mrs.  Eames  for  your  kind  remembrances. 
I  have  had  a  pretty  sorry  spring  of  it ;  but  it  may  be  ac 
cepted  for  some  years  of  indifferent  health  in  the  future.  My 
physicians  talk  of  change  of  life  —  renovation  —  rejuvenes 
cence  and  what  not  —  hoc  erat  in  votis  certainly  —  but  who 
knows  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow  ?  .  .  . 

"  Your  estate  is  gracious  that  keeps  you  out  of  hearing  of  our 
politics.  Any  thing  more  low  —  obscene  —  feculent — the  mani 
fold  oceanic  hearings  of  history  have  not  cast  up.  We  shall  come 
to  the  worship  of  onions  —  cats  —  and  things  vermiculate. 
*  Renown  and  grace  are  dead.'  '  There's  nothing  serious  in 

took  ether,  and  afterwards  remarked  to  a  friend,  that  "  it  was  very 
pleasant  till  the  moment  of  utterly  surrendering  consciousness,  —  then 
death  itself  could  not  have  been  more  awful." 


280  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [Ciixr.  VIII. 

mortality.'  If  any  wiser  saw  or  instance,  ancient  or  modern, 
occurred  to  me  to  express  the  enormous  impossible  inanity  of 
American  things,  I  should  utter  it.  Bless  your  lot  then, 
which  gives  you  to  volcanoes,  earthquakes,  feather-cinctured 
chiefs,  and  dusty  sights  of  the  tropics.  I  wish  I  was  there 
with  all  my  heart  —  that  I  do  — 

"After  all,  the  Democratic  chance  is  best.  The  whole 
South  is  Pierce's  —  I  think  —  so  is  the  foreign  vote  of  the 
North.  So  will  be  Pennsylvania,  I  guess.  .  .  . 

"  I  write  to  Mrs.  Eames  and  send  love  to  her  and  the  babes. 

"  I  wish  you  health,  happiness,  and  treaties  of  immortal 
peace  and  fame.  Most  truly, 

"  Yours, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 

lion.  Charles  Eames,  $r.,  $~c.,  frc.t  Caraccas. 


To  MRS.  EAMES. 

"Boston,  29th  June,  1855. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  EAMES,  —  I  have  only  just  got  abroad  after 
a  confinement  of  a  matter  of  four  months,  and,  with  a  hand  still 
tremulous,  though  I  flatter  myself  legible  to  the  eye  of  a  true 
friendship,  I  would  send  you  my  love  and  good  wishes  — 
chiefly  and  first  congratulating  you  upon  your  safe  arrival  at 
that  vortex  of  palms  and  earthquakes  and  sea-change.  My  — 
our  —  excellent  Mr.  Everett  has  reported  with  some  frequency 
of  you  ;  and  here  comes  a  tin  case,  and  a  little  letter,  more 
tellingly  assuring  me  that  your  kindness  is  untravelled,  and 
that  you  remember  and  wish  to  be  remembered  from  the 
other  side  of  this  watery  wilderness  of  separation.  .  .  . 

4<  I  have  come  out  of  town  to-day  about  three  miles  to  my 
daughter  Bell's  —  to  '  lie  at  large  and  sing  the  glories  of  the 
circling  year '  —  as  Thomson,  or  who  was  he,  says  —  but  more 
particularly  and  properly  to  write  to  you.  She  and  her  hus 
band,  not  expecting  me,  have  gone  into  Boston  ;  and  I  am 
alone  in  a  little  library  in  a  garden,  held,  as  it  were,  to  the 
very  breast  of  June.  It  is  our  summer  at  its  best  —  roses 
—  hens  and  chickens  —  green  peas  —  honeysuckle  —  cocks 
crowing  —  a  balmy  west  wind  heavy  with  sweets.  I  wish, 
instead  of  the  fierce  and  gigantic  heats  and  growths  and  out 
landish  glory  and  beauty  of  Caraccas  —  whose  end  is  to  be 
burned  —  you,  your  children,  and  Mr.  Eames  were  here  — 
*  pastoral  and  pathetic '  —  virtuously  and  contentedly  a  smell- 


1850-1855.]  LETTER  TO  MRS.  EAMES.  281 

ing  of  this  new-mown  hay  and  walking  with  me  —  I,  on  two 
crutches  —  say  two  sticks  —  like  the  title  of  some  beastly 
French  novel  —  and  talking  over  the  old  times.  You  see 
Boston  through  the  trees,  and  hear  now  and  then  the  whistle 
of  invisible  cars  —  otherwise,  you  might  fancy  yourself  fifty 
thousand  globes  from  cities  or  steam.  These  are  the  places 
and  the  moments  for  that  discourse  in  which  is  so  much  more 
of  our  happiness  than  in  actualities  of  duty,  or  even  in  hope. 

"I  look  forward  with  longing  to  your  coming  back.  Come 
unchanged  all  of  you  —  except  the  children,  who  are  to  be 
bigger,  darker,  and  even  handsomer.  .  .  . 

44 1  mean  to  go  out  and  hear  Mr.  Everett  on  the  4th  of 
July,  at  his  native  Dorchester.  He  will  outdo  himself,  and  I 
wish  you  and  Mr.  Eames  could  hear  him.  He  has  been  inex 
pressibly  kind  to  rne  in  my  confinement. 

"  I  am  slowly  getting  well  —  nothing  remains  of  it  all  but  a 
disabled  knee,  and  that  is  slowly  getting  well  too.  .  .  . 

"  God  bless  you  all.  Write  by  every  wind  that  comes  this 
way. 

"Yours  most  truly, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 


282  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

1855-1858. 

Love  of  the  Union  —  Letter  to  the  Whig  Convention  at  Worcester, 
October,  1855 — Letter  to  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins  —  Lecture  on 
the  Early  British  Poets  of  this  century,  March,  1856  —  Sir  Walter 
Scott  —  Political  Campaign  of  1856  —  Determines  to  support  Mr. 
Buchanan  —  Letter  to  the  Whigs  of  Maine  —  Address  at  Lowell  — 
Letter  to  J.  C.  Walsh  —  Professional  position  —  His  Library  — 
Lecture  on  The  Eloquence  of  Revolutionary  Periods,  February, 
1857  —  Defence  of  Mrs.  Dalton  —  Oration  before  the  Boston  Demo 
cratic  Club,  July  4th,  1858. 

OF  all  feelings  and  sentiments  none  was  stronger  in 
Mr.  Choate's  mind  than  the  love  of  country.  But  it 
was  the  whole  country,  THE 'ONE  UNDIVIDED  AND  INDI 
VISIBLE  NATION  that  absorbed  his  interest.  Strongly  as 
he  was  attached  to  Massachusetts,  —  and  no  son  ever 
loved  her  with  a  more  filial  devotion,  —  he  saw  the 
greatness  of  the  State  in  the  prosperity  of  the  Union. 
The  narrower  virtue  was  always  absorbed  in  the 
grander.  The  large  and  strong  patriotism  of  Wash 
ington  and  Madison  and  Hamilton  and  Webster  as 
sumed  a  new  intensity  in  his  bosom.  Every  speech, 
every  lecture,  almost  every  public  utterance  of  his 
during  his  later  years,  is  full  of  this  spirit.  It  was 
the  side  on  which  his  sympathies  touched  those  of  the 
Democratic  party,  far  from  it  as  he  ever  had  been,  on 
so  many  points  of  national  policy.  "  There  are  a  good 


1855-1858.]  LOVE   OF  THE   UNION.  283 

many  things,"  he  said  in  a  speech  at  Worcester,  in 
1848,  "  that  I  like  in  the  Democratic  party.  I  like 
their  nationality  and  their  spirit  of  union,  after  all. 
I  like  the  American  feeling  that  pervades  the  masses." 
It  was  this  feeling,  not  merely  an  intellectual  convic 
tion  that  the  Union  was  necessary  for  safety  and  pros 
perity,  but  the  nationality,  the  "  country's  majestic 
presence,"  which  led  him  to  oppose  every  political 
scheme  which  looked  to  less  than  the  welfare  of  the 
whole.  This  feeling  of  patriotism  grew  stronger  and 
stronger  as  he  saw  others  apparently  indifferent  to  it, 
or  proposing  measures  which,  by  disregarding  the  in 
terests  and  feelings  of  large  States,  would  necessarily 
tend,  as  he  thought,  to  make  them  disloyal. 

From  the  illness  of  the  earlier  part  of  1855,  Mr. 
Choate  recovered  sufficiently  to  enter  with  some  eager 
ness  into  the  political  contests  of  the  autumn.  A 
new  party,  called,  from  their  secret  organization, 
"  Know-nothings,"  and  subsequently  claiming  the 
name  of  "  American,"  had  sprung  up  in  several 
States,  and  in  Massachusetts  had  made  unexpected 
inroads  into  both  the  great  parties  which,  before,  had 
mainly  divided  the  people.  The  Whigs,  however, 
were  not  inclined  to  give  up  their  organization.  A 
convention  was  holden  in  Worcester  early  in  October. 
Mr.  Choate  was  one  of  the  delegates  from  Boston,  and 
not  being  able  to  attend,  sent  the  following  letter,  the 
concluding  sentence  of  which  has  passed  into  one  of 
the  watchwords  of  patriotism. 


284 


MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IX. 


LETTER  TO  THE  WHIG  CONVENTION  AT  WORCESTER,  MASS., 

"  BOSTON,  October  1,  1865. 
"  Messrs.  Peter  Butler,  Jr.,  and  Bradley  N.  Cummings,  Secretaries,  $*c.,  frc. 

"  GENTLEMEN,  —  I  discover  that  my  engagements  will  not 
allow  me  to  attend  the  convention  to  be  holden  at  Worcester 
to-morrow,  and  I  hope  that  it  is  not  too  late  to  fill  the  va 
cancy. 

"  I  assure  the  Whigs  of  Boston  that  I  should  have  regarded 
it  as  a  duty  and  a  privilege,  if  it  had  been  practicable,  to 
serve  as  one  of  their  delegates.  The  business  which  the  con 
vention  meets  to  do  gives  it  extraordinary  attraction  as  well 
as  importance. 

"  Whether  we  are  dead,  as  reported  in  the  newspapers,  or, 
if  not,  whether  we  shall  fall  upon  our  own  swords  and  die 
even  so,  will  be  a  debate  possessing  the  interest  of  novelty  at 
least.  For  one,  I  deny  the  death,  and  object  to  the  suicide, 
and  should  be  glad  to  witness  the  indignation  and  laughter 
with  which  such  a  question  will  be  taken. 

"  If  there  shall  be  in  that  assembly  any  man,  who,  still  a 
Whig,  or  having  been  such,  now  proposes  to  dissolve  the 
party,  let  him  be  fully  heard  and  courteously  answered  upon 
his  reasons.  Let  him  declare  what  party  we  shall  join. 
Neutrality  in  any  sharp  civil  dissension  is  cowardly,  immoral, 
and  disreputable.  To  what  party,  then,  does  he  recommend 
us  ?  I  take  it  for  granted  it  will  not  be  to  the  Democratic  ; 
I  take  it  for  granted,  also,  not  the  American.  To  what  other, 
then  ?  To  that  of  fusion  certainly,  to  the  Republican,  —  so 
called,  I  suppose,  because  it  is  organized  upon  a  doctrine,  and 
aims  at  ends,  and  appeals  to  feelings,  on  which  one-half  of 
the  Republic,  by  a  geographical  line,  is  irreconcilably  opposed 
to  the  other.  Even  to  that  party. 

"  Let  him  be  heard  on  his  reasons  for  deserting  our  con 
nection  and  joining  such  an  one.  To  me,  the  answer  to  them 
all,  to  all  such  as  I  have  heard,  or  can  imagine,  seems  ready 
and  decisive. 

"  Suppressing  entirely  all  that  natural  indignation  and 
sense  of  wounded  pride  and  grief  which  might  be  permitted 
in  view  of  such  a  proposition  to  Whigs  who  remember  their 
history,  —  the  names  of  the  good  and  wise  men  of  the  living 
and  dead,  that  have  illustrated  their  connection,  and  served 
their  country  through  it,  —  who  remember  their  grand  and 
large  creed  of  Union,  the  Constitution,  peace  with  honor, 


1855-1858.]     LETTER  TO  THE  WHIG  CONVENTION.       285 

nationality,  the  development  and  culture  of  all  sources  of 
material  growth,  the  education  of  the  people,  the  industry  of 
the  people,  —  suppressing  the  emotions  which  Whigs,  remem 
bering  this  creed  and  the  fruits  it  has  borne,  and  may  yet 
bear,  might  well  feel  towards  the  tempter  and  the  temptation, 
the  answer  to  all  the  arguments  for  going  into  fusion  is  at 
hand.  It  is  useless,  totally,  for  all  the  objects  of  the  fusionist, 
assuming  them  to  be  honest  and  constitutional,  —  useless  and 
prejudicial  to  those  objects  ;  and  it  is  fraught,  moreover,  with 
great  evil.  What  are  the  objects  of  the  fusionist?  To  re 
store  the  violated  compromise,  or,  if  he  cannot  effect  that,  to 
secure  to  the  inhabitants,  bondjide  such,  of  the  new  territory 
the  unforced  choice  of  the  domestic  institutions  which  they 
prefer,  a  choice  certain,  in  the  circumstances  of  that  country 
now  or  soon  to  close  it  against  slavery  for  ever.  These, 
unless  he  courts  a  general  disturbance  and  the  revelry  of  civil 
'  battle-fields,'  are  his  object ;  and  when  he  shall  prove  that 
fusion  will  send  to  Congress  men  who  will  labor  with  more 
zeal  and  more  effect  to  these  ends  than  such  Whigs  as  Mr. 
Walley  is,  or  as  Mr.  Rockwell  was.  —  with  a  truer  devotion 
to  liberty  —  more  obedient  to  the  general  sentiment  and  the 
specific  exactions  of  the  free  States  —  with  a  better  chance 
to  touch  the  reason  and  heart,  and  win  the  co-operation  of 
good  men  in  all  sections,  —  when  he  proves  this,  you  may 
believe  him.  We  know  that  the  Whig  representatives  of 
Massachusetts  in  Congress  do  and  must  completely  express 
the  anti-slavery  sentiment  of  Massachusetts,  so  far  as  they 
may  be  expressed  under  the  Constitution.  More  than  this 
we  do  not  seek  to  express  while  there  is  yet  a  Constitution. 
Fusion  is  needless  for  the  honest  objects  of  the  fusionist. 

"  But  the  evils  of  disbanding  such  a  party  as  ours  and 
substituting  such  a  party  as  that !  See  what  it  fails  to  do. 
Here  is  a  new  and  great  political  party,  which  is  to  govern,  if 
it  can,  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  and  to  govern,  if  it  can, 
the  American  Union.  And  what  are  its  politics  ?  It  has 
none.  Who  knows  them  ?  Even  on  the  topic  of  slavery, 
nobody  knows,  that  I  am  aware  of,  what  in  certain  it  seeks  to 
do,  or  how  much  or  how  little  will  content  it.  Loud  in 
general  demonstration,  it  is  silent  or  evasive  on  particular 
details. 

"  But  outside  of  the  topic  of  slavery,  what  are  its  politics  ? 
What,  in  the  most  general  outline,  is  its  creed  of  national  or 
State  policy  ?  How  does  it  interpret  the  Constitution  ?  What 


286  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IX. 

is  its  theory  of  State  rights  ?  What  is  its  foreign  policy  ? 
By  what  measures  ;  by  what  school  of  politicians  ;  by  what 
laws  or  what  subjects  ;  by  what  diplomacy  ;  how,  generally, 
does  it  propose  to  accomplish  that  good,  and  prevent  that  evil, 
and  to  provide  for  those  wants  for  which  States  are  formed 
and  government  established  ?  Does  it  know  ?  Does  it  tell  ? 
Are  its  representatives  to  go  to  Congress  or  the  Legislature, 
to  speak  and  vote  on  slavery  only  ?  If  not,  on  what  else, 
and  on  which  side  of  it  ? 

"  A  party,  a  great  political  party,  without  politics,  is  a 
novelty  indeed.  Before  the  people  of  this  country  or  State 
enable  it  to  rule  them,  they  will  desire,  I  fancy,  a  little  more 
information  on  these  subjects.  We  all,  or  almost  all,  of  the 
Free  States  who  recognize  the  Constitution,  think  on  slavery 
substantially  alike.  Before  we  make  men  Presidents  and 
Governors  and  Senators  and  Judges  and  Diplomatists,  we 
demand  to  see  what  else  besides  cheap,  easy,  unavoidable  con 
formity  to  the  sectional  faitli  on  that  one  topic,  they  can  show 
for  themselves. 

"  We  elect  them  not  to  deliver  written  lectures  to  assenting 
audiences  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  —  to  kindle  the  inflamma 
ble,  and  exasperate  the  angry,  —  but  to  perform  the  duties  of 
practical  statesmanship  in  the  most  complicated  and  delicate 
political  system,  and  the  hardest  to  administer  in  the  world. 
Let  us,  at  least,  then,  know  their  politics.  Kept  totally  in 
the  dark  about  these,  we  do  know  that  this  party  of  fusion  is, 
in  the  truest  of  all  senses,  and  the  worst  of  all  senses,  a  geo 
graphical  party.  What  argument  against  it  can  we  add  to 
this  ?  Such  a  party,  like  war,  is  to  be  made  when  it  is  neces 
sary.  If  it  is  not  necessary,  it  is  like  war,  too,  a  tremendous 
and  uncompensated  evil.  When  it  shall  have  become  neces 
sary,  the  eternal  separation  will  have  begun.  That  time,  that 
end,  is  not  yet.  Let  us  not  hasten,  and  not  anticipate  it,  by 
so  rash  an  innovation  as  this. 

"  Parties  in  this  country  heretofore  have  helped,  not  de 
layed,  the  slow  and  difficult  growth  of  a  consummated  nation 
ality.  Our  discussions  have  been  sharp ;  the  contest  for 
honor  and  power,  keen ;  the  disputes  about  principles  and 
measures,  hot  and  prolonged.  But  it  was  in  our  country's 
majestic  presence  that  we  contended.  It  was  from  her  hand 
that  we  solicited  the  prize.  Whoever  lost  or  won,  we  loved 
her  better.  Our  allies  were  everywhere.  There  were  no 
Alleghanies  nor  Mississippi  rivers  in  our  politics. 


1855-1858.]  LETTER  TO  REV.  CHANDLER  ROBBINS.      287 

"  Such  was  the  felicity  of  our  condition,  that  the  very  dis 
sensions  which  rent  small  republics  in  twain,  welded  and 
compacted  the  vast  fabric  of  our  own.  Does  he  who  would 
substitute  for  this  form  of  conducting  our  civil  differences  a 
geographical  party,  completely  understand  his  own  work  ? 
Does  he  consider  how  vast  an  educational  instrumentality  the 
party  life  and  influence  compose  ?  Does  he  forget  how  the 
public  opinion  of  a  people  is  created,  and  that  when  created 
it  determines  their  history  ?  All  party  organization  tends 
towards  faction.  This  is  its  evil.  But  it  is  inseparable  from 
free  governments.  To  choose  his  political  connection  aright 
is  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  duty  of  the  citizen.  We 
have  made  our  choice,  and  we  abide  by  it.  We  join  our 
selves  to  no  party  that  does  not  carry  the  flag  and  keep  step  to 
the  music  of  the  Union. 

"  I  am,  gentlemen,  your  fellow-citizen, 

"  RUFUS    ClIOATE." 

During  the  election  contest  a  large  meeting  of  the 
Whigs  of  Boston  and  its  vicinity  was  held  in  Paneuil 
Hall.  It  was  addressed,  among  others,  by  Mr.  Choate, 
in  a  strain  of  lofty  and  urgent  patriotism  such  as  has 
seldom  been  heard  in  a  State  election.  His  mind 
soared  to  heights  from  which  it  saw  not  the  temporary 
interest  of  a  State  alone,  nor  the  success  of  this  or 
that  candidate  for  honorable  office,  but  "  the  giant 
forms  of  empires  "  on  their  way  to  prosperity  or  ruin. 
How  deeply  his  mind  was  moved  is  attested  not  only 
by  the  speech  itself,  but  by  his  future  action.  The 
election  was  not  favorable  to  the  Whigs,  nor  yet  to  the 
Republicans.  A  letter  written  soon  afterwards  will 
incidentally  show  the  means  by  which  he  solaced  him 
self  under  defeat,  where  not  the  slightest  personal 
interest  was  at  stake,  and  what  were  still  his  hopes. 

To  REV.  CHANDLER  ROBBINS. 

"  BOSTON,  November  12,  1855. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  Absence  from  the  city  since  Tuesday  has 
prevented  me  from  expressing  my  most  grateful,  my  warmest 


288  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 

thanks  for  your  note.  In  the  circumstances  and  feelings  of 
the  moment,  it  was  soothing  in  the  highest  degree.  On  a 
more  deliberate  reading,  and  le.^s  on  personal  reasons,  it  has 
afforded  even  more  gratification.  We  are  the  most  fortunate 
of  the  nations,  and  owe  the  largest  debt  to  humanity,  with 
the  perfect  certainty  of  paying  it,  to  one  hundred  cents  on 
the  dollar,  with  interest,  and  in  the  natural  lifetime  of  the 
State,  if  we  will  only  consent  to  live  on,  and  obey  the  law  of 
normal  growth.  And  yet  they  would  enlist  what  they  call 
the  moral  sentiment,  and  incite  us  to  immediate  or  certain 
national  self-murder.  I  rejoice  with  great  joy  that  such  dis 
tempered  ethics  are  disowned  of  a  teacher  of  religion  —  a 
cultivated,  humane,  and  just  man ;  and  that  a  patriotism, 
whose  first  care  is  for  the  Union  —  *  being,  before  even  well- 
being  '  —  is  regarded  of  such  authority  as  high  among  the 
larger  virtues. 

"  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  although  the  details  and 
instruments  are  less  satisfactory  than  could  have  been  wished, 
the  election  is  a  real  victory  of  intense  American  feeling,  in 
which  even  you  may  have  pleasure.  I  think  it  leaves  only 
two  great  parties,  both  national  to  the  cannon's  mouth,  in  the 
field. 

"  Your  delightful  allusion  to  Mr.  "Webster  excites  even 
warmer  emotions.  I  never  think  of  him  without  recalling 
the  fine,  pathetic,  unfinished  sentence  of  Burk«,  in  reference 
to  Lord  Keppel,  — '  On  that  day  I  had  a  loss  in  Lord  Keppel ; 
but  the  public  loss  of  him  in  this  awful  crisis —  ! ' 

"  Yet  it  shall  not,  I   think,  be  the  generation  which  saw 
him,  that  shall  witness  the  overthrow  of  the  system  to  which 
he  devoted  himself  with  such  desperate  fidelity. 
"•  I  am,  with  the  highest  regard,- 

"Your  obliged  humble  servant, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

The  following  letter  refers  to  a  speech  made  at  a 
dinner  on  the  birthday  of  Mr.  Webster,  where  Mr. 
Everett  presided  :  — 

To  HON.  EDWARD  EVERETT. 

"  Saturday  eve,  January  19,  1856. 

"DEAR  MR.  EVERETT, —  It  signifies  nothing  what  I  say 
in  all  this  din  and  tempest  of  applause  ;  but  I  believe  that 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON   THE  POETS.  289 

nobody  is  more  sincerely  glad  at  your  most  signal  success, 
and  I  know  that  nobody  has  read  you  with  more  delight.  It 
was  only  within  an  hour  or  two  that  I  was  so  well  as  to  do 
this  carefully,  though  I  heard  it  all  read  early  in  the  day. 
Our  mighty  friend  himself,  and  even  the  nature  that  he  so 
loved,  come  mended  —  say  rather,  show  clearer  and  nearer, 
like  those  headlands  in  the  Homeric  moonlight  landscape.  I 
most  heartily  thank  you  for  presiding ;  it  has  won  or  con 
firmed  many  hearts ;  and  I  can  never  cease  to  regret  that  I 
could  not  have  seen  and  heard  what  all  felt  to  be  an  effort  of 
extraordinary  felicity. 

"  I  am,  very  truly,  your  servant  and  friend, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE." 

Boston  has  long  been  noted  for  its  popular  lectures. 
Mr.  Choate  was  frequently  solicited  to  occupy  an  even 
ing  of  the  prescribed  course ;  and  notwithstanding 
the  pressure  of  other  engagements,  often  did  so.  He 
generally  availed  himself  of  some  recent  noteworthy 
event,  civil  or  literary,  which  served  to  suggest  the 
eloquent  and  wise  discourse.  On  the  13th  of  March, 
1856,  he  closed  the  series  of  lectures  before  the  Mer 
cantile  Library  Association,  by  an  address  on  "  Our 
Obligations  to  the  British  Poets  of  the  first  twenty 
years  of  this  Century."  The  theme  was  a  favorite  one, 
and  carried  him  back  to  college  days  and  his  earlier 
life.  The  lecture  was  announced,  for  brevity  and  con 
venience,  as  upon  Samuel  Rogers,  whose  death  had 
occurred  a  few  mouths  before,  although  that  poet  was 
but  one  among  many  whose  life  and  influence  were 
cursorily  noticed. 

"  I  appreciate  quite  well,"  he  said,  "  that  to  a  great 
many  of  you  this  once  resplendent  circle  is  a  little  out 
of  the  fashion.  Their  task  is  done,  you  say  ;  their 
song  hath  ceased.  .  .  .  You  began  to  read  fine  writing, 
verse  and  prose,  at  a  time  when  other  names  had 

19 


290  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 

gained,  or  were  gaining,  the  large  ear  of  the  gentle 
public,  .  .  .  when  Eugene  Aram,  or  Ernest  Maltrav- 
ers,  or  Vivian  Grey,  or  the  Pickwick  Papers,  had  begun 
to  elbow  Waverley,  the  Antiquary,  and  Ivanhoe,  off 
the  table  ;  .  .  .  after  the  c  last  new  poem '  began  to  be 
more  read  than  the  matchless  Fourth  Canto  of  Childe 
Harold,  ...  or  the  grand,  melancholy,  and  im 
mortal  Platonisms  and  Miltonisms  of  the  Excursion. 
So  much  the  worse  for  yourselves  ! 

"  But  if  there  be  any  in  this  assembly  of  the  age  of 
fifty  or  thereabout,  you  will  hold  a  different  theory. 
You  will  look  back  not  without  delight,  to  the  time, 
say  from  1812  to  1820,  when  this  brilliant  and  still 
young  school  had  fairly  won  the  general  voice,  —  to 
that  time  when  exactly  as  taste,  fancy,  the  emotions, 
were  beginning  to  unfold  and  to  pronounce  themselves, 
and  to  give  direction  to  your  solitary  and  voluntary 
reading,  these  armed  flights  of  genius  came  streaming 
from  beyond  the  sea,  —  that  time  when  as  you  came 
into  your  room  from  a  college  recitation  in  which  you 
had  been  badly  screwed  in  the  eighth  proposition  on 
the  Ellipse  in  Webber's  Conic  Sections,  or  in  some 
passage  of  Tacitus  in  an  edition  with  few  notes  and  a 
corrupt  text,  and  no  translation,  —  you  found  Rob 
Roy,  or  The  Astrologer,  or  The  Antiquary,  just  repub- 
lished  and  waiting  your  hands  uncut ;  —  when  being 
asked  if  there  were  any  thing  new,  the  bookseller  would 
demurely  and  apologetically  say,  'No,  nothing  very 
particular;  there  was  just  a  Fourth  Canto  of  Childe 
Harold,  or  a  little  pamphlet  edition  of  Manfred,  or  a 
thing  of  Rogers,  the  author  of  The  Pleasures  of 
Memory,  called  Human  Life,  or  Lines  of  Coleridge  on 
a  view  of  the  Alps  before  sunrise  in  the  vale  of  Cha- 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON  THE   POETS.  291 

mouny,  or  The  Excursion,  or  Coriime  or  Germany  of 
Madame  de  Stael,  nothing  else  I  believe.'  You  who 
can  remember  this  will  sigh  and  say, 

'  'Twas  a  light  that  ne'er  can  shine  again 
On  life's  dull  stream.' 

So  might  you  say,  whatever  their  worth  intrinsically ; 
for  to  you,  —  to  us,  —  read  in  the  age  of  admiration, 

—  of  the  first  pulse  of  the  emotions  beating  unwont- 
edly,  —  associated  with  college  contentions  and  friend 
ships  ;  the  walk  on  the  gleaming,  Rhine-like,  riverside  ; 
the  seat  of  rock  and  moss  under  the  pine  singing  of 
Theocritus ;  with  all  fair  ideals  revelling  in  the  soul 
before 

'  The  trumpet  call  of  truth 
Pealed  on  the  idle  dreams  of  youth,' — 

to  you  they  had  a  spell  beyond  their  value  and  a  place 
in  your  culture  that  nothing  can  share." 

Of  them  all  —  that  constellation  of  brilliant  writers 

—  no  one  interested  Mr.  Choate  so  much  as  Sir  Walter 
Scott.     The  whole  lecture  is,  of  necessity,  somewhat 
desultory  ;  but  one  cannot  well  pass  by  the  general 
tribute  to  Scott,  and  the  brief  defence  of  him  from  the 
criticism  of  Mr.  Carlyle  :  — 

"  And  now,  of  all  that  bright  circle,  whom  shall  we 
say  we  love  best?  Each  has  his  choice.  Our  own 
moods  have  them.  But  do  I  deceive  myself  in  suppos 
ing,  that  if  the  collective  voice  of  all  who  speak  the 
language  of  England  could  be  gathered  by  ballot,  it 
would  award  the  laurel  by  about  a  two-thirds  majority 
to  Walter  Scott,  —  to  the  prose  romance  of  Scott  ?  Of 
him,  no  one  knows  where  to  begin  or  end.  Consider 
first,  to  how  many  minds,  to  how  many  moods  of  mind, 
these  pages  give  the  pleasure  for  which  books  of  elegant 


292  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 

literature  are  written.  To  enjoy  them,  you  need  be  in 
no  specific  and  induced  state  ;  you  need  not  be  gloomy, 
hating,  pursued  by  a  fury,  a  sorrow,  a  remorse,  or  chas 
ing  a  pale  visionary  phantom  of  love  and  hope,  as  you 
must  to  read  Byron  ;  you  need  not  be  smitten  with  a 
turn  to  mysticism  and  the  transcendental  and  the  Pla 
tonic,  as  you  must  be  to  relish  a  great  deal  of  Words 
worth ;  you  need  not  feel  any  special  passion,  nor 
acknowledge  any  very  pronounced  vocation,  for  reform 
ing  school-houses  and  alms-houses,  for  shortening  the 
hours  and  raising  the  wages  of 'weavers'  labor,  for  pull 
ing  down  the  aristocracy,  the  offices  and  Court  of 
Chancery,  and  reconstructing  society  in  general,  as 
you  must  to  enjoy  very  much  even  of  our  excellent 
Dickens.  You  need  only  to  be  a  man  or  woman,  with 
a  love  of  reading  and  snatching  your  chances  in  the 
interstitial  spaces  of  life's  idle  business  to  indulge  it, 
and  that  is  all.  And  why  so  ?  Because  that  genius 
was  so  healthful  as  well  as  so  large  and  strong,  because 
that  humanity  was  so  comprehensive,  because  that  ca. 
pacity  was  so  universal, —  that  survey  of  life  so  wide 
and  thorough,  —  that  knowledge  of  man  in  his  general 
nature  as  well  as  in  his  particular,  so  deep  and  true ! 
Therefore  it  is,  he  gives  you  what  Homer  gives,  what 
Shakspeare  gives,  —  not  crotchets,  not  deformities, 
not  abnormal  and  exceptional  things  or  states,  not  in 
tensities,  extravagancies,  and  spasms ;  but  he  gives 
you  an  apocalypse  of  life,  from  its  sublimest  moments 
to  its  minutest  manners,  such  as  never  was  communi 
cated  but  by  two  other  human  imaginations.  In  that 
panorama  of  course,  as  in  the  mighty,  complicated,  and 
many-colored  original  of  nature  and  history,  there  are 
all  sorts  of  things,  the  jester,  the  humorist,  the  appari- 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON   THE   POETS.  29 

tion  from  the  dead,  even  as  there  is  the  clown  grave- 
digger  in  Hamlet,  the  fool  in  Lear,  the  drunken  porter 
in  Macbeth,  Thersites  in  the  Iliad  ;  but  they  are  in 
proportion  and  place.  The  final  aggregate  of  impres 
sion  is  true.  You  have  not  read  that  particular  chap 
ter  in  the  great  Book  of  Life  before  ;  but  you  recog 
nize  it  in  a  moment ;  you  learn  from  it.  These  men 
and  women  you  had  not  known  by  name  ;  you  see 
them  tried  by  imaginary  and  romantic  circumstances 
certainly,  but  they  reveal  and  illustrate  and  glorify  the 
genuine  humanity  whic'i  you  know  to  be  such  at  its 
best ;  courage,  honor,  love,  truth,  principle,  duty ; 
tried  on  high  places  and  on  low  ;  in  the  hour  of  battle ; 
in  the  slow  approach  of  death  ;  in  bereavement ;  in 
joy ;  in  all  that  varied  eventful  ebb  and  flow  that  makes 
life. 

"  This  is  the  reason,  —  one  reason,  —  why  so  many 
more,  in  so  many  more  moods,  love  him,  than  any  other 
one  in  that  splendid  companionship.  True  it  is  no 
doubt,  that  even  above  the  sound  of  a  universal  and 
instant  popularity,  there  is  a  charm  beyond.  There  is 
a  twofold  charm  beyond.  They  are,  first,  the  prose 
romances  of  a  poet ;  not  the  downright  prose  of  Smol 
lett,  of  Defoe,  and  of  Fielding,  nor  the  pathetic  prose 
of  Richardson,  nor  the  brilliant  and  elegant  prose  of 
Edgeworth,  or  Hope  in  Anastasius.  They  sparkle  and 
burn  with  that  element,  impossible  to  counterfeit,  im 
possible  to  destroy,  —  a  genuine  poetry.  Sometimes 
the  whole  novel  is  a  poem.  Who  does  not  feel  this  in 
every  page  of  the  Bride  of  Lammcrmoor  ?  The  story 
is  simple,  its  incidents  are  few ;  yet  how  like  a  trag 
edy,  brooded  over  by  Destiny,  it  sweeps  on,  from  that 
disturbed  funeral  of  old  Lord  Ravenswood,  —  the  pnr 


294  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

cession  interrupted  —  the  father  on  the  bier  —  the 
mourning  child  by  his  side,  outraged  under  the  very 
arches  of  the  house  of  death  —  that  deep  paleness  of 
the  cheek  of  the  young  son  revealing  how  the  agony  of 
his  sorrow  masters  for  a  space  the  vehemence  of  his 
burning  resentment,  —  that  awful  oath  of  revenge 
against  the  house  of  his  future  affianced  bride  ;  —  how 
it  sweeps  on,  from  this  burial  service  presided  over  by 
doom,  through  those  unutterable  agonies  of  two  hearts, 
to  the  successive  and  appalling  death-scenes ;  how 
every  incident  and  appendage  s  wells  the  dark  and  swift 
tide  of  destiny ;  how  highly  wrought  —  how  vivid  — 
how  spontaneous  in  metaphor,  is  every  scene  and  dia 
logue  ;  to  what  fervor  and  exaltation  of  mind  —  to 
what  keen  susceptibility  of  emotion  —  to  how  towering 
and  perturbed  a  mood  of  imagination,  all  the  dramatis 
personce  seem  elevated !  In  the  same  sense  in  which 
the  CEdipus  or  the  Agamemnon  is  a  tragic  poem,  so  is 
this  ;  and  the  glorious  music  of  the  opera,  is  scarcely 
passionate  and  mournful  enough  to  relieve  the  over- 
burthened  and  over-wrought  heart  and  imagination  of 
the  reader. 

"  And  when  the  whole  romance  is  not  a  poem  in  its 
nature,  in  model,  as  Waverley,  the  Antiquary  and  the 
Astrologer  and  Kenilworth  and  Ivanhoe  are  not,  how 
does  the  element  of  poetry  yet  blend  and  revel  in  it ! 
In  what  other  prose  romances  of  any  literature,  in  how 
many  romances  in  verse,  do  you  find  pictures  of  scen 
ery  so  bold,  just,  and  free,  —  such  judgment  in  choos 
ing,  and  enthusiasm  in  feeling,  and  energy  in  sketching, 
an  unequalled  landscape,  identified  by  its  own  incom 
municable  beauty  and  grandeur  ?  Where  else  but  iu 
the  finest  of  tragedies  do  you  find  the  persons  of  the  scene 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON   THE  POETS.  295 

brought  together  and  interacting  in  speech  and  figure 
so  full  of  life,  —  the  life  of  a  real  presence,  —  the  life 
flashing  from  the  eye,  trembling  in  the  tones  of  voice, 
shaking  the  strong  man's  frame,  speaking  in  the  elo 
quent  face  ?  Who  has  sketched  the  single  combat,  the 
shock  of  ancient  and  modern  battle,  the  assault,  the. 
repulse,  the  final  storm,  like  him  ?  Recall  that  contest 
with  night,  ocean,  and  tempest,  in  which  Sir  Arthur 
and  Isabella  are  rescued  in  the  Antiquary ;  and  con 
trast  that  other  also  in  the  Antiquary,  the  fisherman's 
funeral,  —  the  bier  of  the  young  man  drowned  —  the 
passionate,  natural  sobs  of  the  mother  —  the  sullen 
and  fierce  grief  of  the  father,  shaking  in  its  energy 
the  bed  beneath  whose  canopy  he  had  hidden  his  face 

—  the  old  grandmother,  linking  by  a  strange  tie  the 
guilt,  the  punishment  of  the  proud  house  of  Glenallan, 
to  this  agony  of  humble  life.     Over  what  other  prose 
volumes  do  you  find  strewn  broadcast  with  the  prodi 
gality  of  a  happy  nature,  so  much  simile  and  metaphor, 

—  the   vocabulary,  —  the  pearls,  gems,  and  coral  of 
the  language,  —  and  the  thoughts  of  poetry  ?     What 
would  you  think  to  come,  in  Fielding  or  Smollett  or 
Richardson  or  Defoe,  on  such  a  passage  as  this  :  '  It  is 
my  Leicester!     It  is  my  noble  Earl!     It  is  my  Dud 
ley  !     Every  stroke  of  his  horse's  hoof  sounds  like  a 
note  of  lordly  music  !  '     Or  this :  '  Major  Bridgenorth 
glided  along  this  formal  society  with  noiseless  step, 
and  a  composed  severity  of  manner  resembling  their 
own.     He  paused  before  each  in  succession,  and  ap 
parently  communicated,  as  he  passed,  the  transactions 
of  the  evening,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  the 
heir  of  Martindale  Castle  was  now  a  guest  of  Moul- 
trassie  Hall.     Each  seemed  to  stir  at  his  brief  detail, 


296  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IX. 

like  a  range  of  statues  in  an  enchanted  hall,  starting 
into  something  like  life  as  a  talisman  is  applied  to 
them  successively.' 

"  I  know,  too,  what  interest  and  what  value  their 
historical  element  gives  to  these  fictions.  Like  all  this 
class  of  fiction  in  all  literature,  their  theme  is  domestic 
life,  and  nature  under  the  aspects  of  domestic  life. 
But  his  is  domestic  life  on  which  there  streams  the 
mighty  influence  of  a  great  historical  conjuncture. 
That  interest  indescribable  which  attaches  ever  to  a 
people  and  a  time  over  which  dark  care,  an  urgent 
peril,  a  vast  apprehension  is  brooding  ;  a  crisis  of  war, 
of  revolution,  of  revolt,  —  that  interest  is  spread  on  all 
things,  the  minutest  incident,  —  the  humblest  sufferer, 
—  the  conversations  of  boors  on  the  road  or  at  the  ale 
house  ;  every  thing  little  or  high  is  illustrative  and  rep 
resentative.  The  pulses  of  a  sublime  national  move 
ment  beat  through  the  universal  human  nature  of 
the  drama.  The  great  tides  of  historical  and  public 
existence  flow  there  and  ebb,  and  all  things  rise  and 
fall  on  those  resistless  forces.  The  light  of  the  castle 
stormed  and  on  fire  streams  in  through  the  open  door 
of  some  smallest  cottager  ;  and  lovers  are  kept  asunder 
by  a  war  of  succession  to  thrones. 

**  To  one  of  his  detractors,  let  me  say  one  word. 

"  It  has  pleased  Mr.  Thomas  Carlyle  to  record  of 
these  novels,  —  'The  sick  heart  will  find  no  healing 
here,  the  darkly  struggling  heart  no  guidance,  the 
heroic  that  is  in  all  men  no  divine,  awakening  voice.' 
These  be  sonorous  words  assuredly.  In  one  sense  I 
am  afraid  that  is  true  of  any  and  all  mere  romantic 
literature.  As  disparagement  of  Scott  it  is  a  simple 
absurdity  of  injustice.  In  any  adequate  sense  of  these 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON   THE  POETS.  297 

expressions,  Homer  and  Shakspeare  must  answer, 
'These  are  not  mine  to  give/  To  heal  that  sickness, 
to  pour  that  light  on  that  gloom,  to  awaken  that  sleep 
of  greatness  in  the  soul  in  the  highest  sense,  far  other 
provision  is  demanded,  and  is  given.  In  the  old,  old 
time,  —  Hebrew,  Pagan,  —  some  found  it  in  the  very 
voice  of  God  ;  some  in  the  visits  of  the  angel ;  some 
in  a  pilgrimage  to  the  beautiful  Jerusalem ;  some  in 
the  message  of  the  Prophet,  till  that  succession  had  its 
close ;  some  sought  it  rather  thai;  found  it,  like  Soc 
rates,  like  Plato,  like  Cicero,  like  Cato,  in  the  thoughts 
of  their  own  and  other  mighty  minds  turned  to  the 
direct  search  of  truth,  in  the  philosophy  of  specula 
tion,  in  the  philosophy  of  duty,  in  the  practice  of  pub 
lic  life.  To  us  only,  and  at  last,  is  given  the  true  light. 
For  us  only  is  the  great  Physician  provided.  In  our 
ears,  in  theirs  whose  testimony  we  assuredly  believe, 
the  divine  awakening  voice  has  been  articulately  and 
first  spoken.  In  this  sense,  what  he  says  would  be 
true  of  Homer,  Shakspeare,  Dante,  Milton  ;  but  no 
more  true  of  Scott  than  of  Goethe  or  Schiller. 
Neither  is,  or  gives,  religion  to  the  soul,  if  it  is  that  of 
which  he  speaks.  But  if  this  is  not  his  meaning, — 
and  I  suppose  it  is  not,  —  if  he  means  to  say  that  by 
the  same  general  treatment,  by  the  same  form  of  suf 
fering  humanity,  by  which  Homer,  Virgil,  Dante, 
Shakspeare  heal  the  sick  heart,  give  light  to  the  dark 
ened  eye,  and  guidance  to  blundering  feet,  and  kindle 
the  heroic  in  man  to  life,  —  if  he  means  to  say  that  as 
they  have  done  it  he  has  not  in  kind,  in  supreme  de 
gree, —  let  the  millions  whose  hours  of  unrest,  anguish, 
and  fear  he  has  charmed  away,  to  the  darkness  of 
whose  desponding  he  has  given  light,  to  whose  senti- 


298  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 

ments  of  honor,  duty,  courage,  truth,  manliness,  he 
has  given  help  —  let  them  gather  around  the  Capitol 
and  answer  for  themselves  and  him.  I  am  afraid  that 
that  Delphic  and  glorious  Madame  de  Stael  knew  sick 
ness  of  the  heart  in  a  sense  and  with  a  depth  too  true 
only  ;  and  she  had,  with  other  consolation,  the  fisher 
man's  funeral  in  the  Antiquary  read  to  her  on  her 
death-bed  ;  as  Charles  Fox  had  the  kindred  but  un 
equal  sketches  of  Crabbe's  Village  read  on  his. 

"  And  so  of  this  complaint,  that  the  heroic  in  man 
finds  here  no  divine,  awakening  voice.  If  by  this 
heroic  in  man  he  means  what  —  assuming  religious 
traits  out  of  the  question  —  we  who  speak  the  tongue 
of  England  and  hold  the  ethics  of  Plato,  of  Cicero,  of 
Jeremy  Taylor  and  Edmund  Burke,  should  understand, 
—  religion  now  out  of  the  question,  —  that  sense  of 
obligation,  pursuing  us  •  ever,  omnipresent  like  the 
Deity,  ever  proclaiming  that  the  duties  of  life  are  more 
than  life,  —  that  principle  of  honor  that  feels  a  stain 
like  a  wound,  —  that  courage  that  fears  God  and  knows 
no  other  fear,  that  dares  do  all  that  may  become  a  man, 
— truth  on  the  lips  and  in  the  inward  parts,  —  that  love 
of  our  own  native  land,  comprehensive  and  full  love, 
the  absence  of  which  makes  even  the  superb  art-world 
of  Goethe  dreamy  and  epicurean, — manliness,  equal 
to  all  offices  of  war  or  peace,  above  jealousy,  above  in 
justice, — if  this  is  the  heroic,  and  if  by  the  divine 
awakening  voice  he  meant  that  artistic  and  literary 
culture  fitted  to  develop  and  train  this  quality,  —  that 
voice  is  Scott's. 

"  I  will  not  compare  him  with  Carlyle's  Goethe  or 
even  Schiller,  or  any  other  idol  on  the  Olympus  of  his 
worship  ;  that  were  flippant  and  indecorous,  nor  within 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE  ON  THE  POETS.  299 

my  competence.  But  who  and  where,  in  any  litera 
ture,  in  any  walk  of  genius,  has  sketched  a  character, 
imagined  a  situation,  conceived  an  austerity  of  glori 
fied  suffering,  better  adapted  to  awaken  all  of  the  heroic 
in  man  or  woman,  that  it  is  fit  to  awaken,  than  Rebecca 
in  act  to  leap  from  the  dizzy  verge  of  the  parapet  of 
the  Castle  to  escape  the  Templar,  or  awaiting  the  bit 
terness  of  death  in  the  list  of  Templestowe  and  reject 
ing  the  championship  of  her  admirer  ?  —  or  than 
Jeanie  Deans  refusing  an  untruth  to  save  her  innocent 
sister's  life  and  then  walking  to  London  to  plead  for 
her  before  the  Queen, —  and  so  pleading? — than  Mac- 
briar  in  that  group  of  Covenanters  in  Old  Mortality 
in  presence  of  the  Privy  Council,  confessing  for  him 
self,  whom  terror,  whom  torture,  could  not  move  to  the 
betrayal  of  another ;  accepting  sentence  of  death,  after 
anguish  unimaginable,  his  face  radiant  with  joy  ;  a  trial 
of  manhood  and  trust,  a  sublimity  of  trial,  a  manifesta 
tion  of  the  heroic  to  which  the  self-sacrifice  of  a  Leoni- 
das  and  his  three  hundred  was  but  a  wild  and  glad 
revelry,  —  a  march  to  the  '  Dorian  music  of  flutes  and 
soft  recorders,'  —  a  crowning,  after  the  holiday  conten 
tion  of  the  games,  with  all  of  glory  a  Greek  could 
covet  or  conceive. 

"  I  rode  in  the  August  of  1850,  with  a  friend  and 
kinsman,  now  dead,  from  Abbotsford  to  Dryburgh,  from 
the  home  to  the  grave  of  Walter  Scott.  We  asked  the 
driver  if  he  knew  on  which  side  of  the  Tweed  the  fu 
neral  procession,  a  mile  in  length,  went  down.  He 
did  not  know.  But  what  signified  it  ?  Our  way  lay 
along  its  south  bank.  On  our  right  rose  the  three 
peaks  of  the  cloven  summit  of  Eildon  ;  fair  Melrose, 
in  its  gray  ruin,  immortal  as  his  song,  the  Tweed, 


300  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS    CHOATE.          [CHAP.  IX. 

whose  murmur  came  in  on  his  ear  when  lie  was  dying, 
were  on  our  left ;  the  Scotland  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel,  hathed  in  the  mild  harvest  sunlight,  was 
around  us ;  and  when  we  came  within  that  wide  in- 
closure  at  the  Ahbey  of  Dryburgh,  in  which  they  have 
laid  him  down,  we  could  then  feel  how  truly  that  deep 
sob,  which  is  said  to  have  burst  in  that  moment  from 
a  thousand  lips,  was  but  predictive  and  symbolical  of 
the  mourning  of  mute  Nature  for  her  worshipper ;  of 
Scotland  for  the  crown  of  her  glory ;  of  the  millions 
of  long  generations  for  their  companion  and  their 
benefactor." 

The  year  1856  was  a  year  of  political  excitement. 
The  Democratic  party  nominated  Mr.  Buchanan  for 
the  Presidency,  and  the  Republicans,  Col.  Fremont ; 
still  another  party,  composed  of  those  who  called  them 
selves  "  Americans,"  had  nominated  Mr.  Fillmore. 
Mr.  Choate  did  not  entirely  sympathize  with  either  of 
these  parties,  and  for  some  time  was  in  doubt  what 
position  to  take.  To  be  neutral  he  thought  unbecom 
ing,  when  great  interests  seemed  to  be  at  stake,  nor 
was  he  willing  to  throw  away  his  influence  where  there 
was  no  chance  of  success,  especially  where  his  convic 
tions  did  not  impel  him  to  act.  He  meditated  long 
and  anxiously,  taking  counsel  of  none,  because  he  de 
termined  to  act  independently.  A  separation  from  old 
friends,  even  temporarily,  gave  him  real  sorrow,  yet  to 
follow  any  party  founded  on  geographical  principles, 
or  which  would  divide  the  States  by  a  geographical 
line,  seemed  to  him,  not  only  repugnant  to  the  counsels 
of  Washington  and  the  fathers  of  the  Republic,  but  so 
unstatesmanlike  and  dangerous  that  he  could  not  re- 


1855-1858.]    LETTER  TO  MAINE  WHIG  COMMITTEE.     301 

gard  it  with  favor.  A  letter  to  Mr.  Evarts,  of  New 
York,  who  had  recently  made  a  speech  in  favor  of  the 
Republican  party,  indicates  this  feeling. 

To  WM.  M.  EVARTS,  ESQ. 

u  DEAR  MR.  EVARTS,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy  in 
the  transmitting  of  the  speech.  I  had  read  it  before,  and  for 
that  matter,  there  has  been  nothing  else  in  my  papers  since, 
except  the  proceedings  in  the  matter  of  poor  Hoffman.  Both 
—  the  political  and  the  eulogistic  —  are  excellent.  To  say  that 
I  see  my  way  clear  to  act  with  you  were  premature.  Bless 
ings  are  bought  with  a  price.  We  may  pay  too  high  for  good 
sentiments  and  desirable  policy.  I  hate  some  of  your  asso 
ciates  and  recognize  no  necessity  at  all  for  a  Presidential  cam 
paign  on  platforms  less  broad  than  the  whole  area.  .  .  . 

"  Most  truly  yours,  R.  CHOATE." 

The  first  distinct  intimation  that  he  gave  of  his 
probable  political  course  was  in  a  note  to  Mr.  Everett. 
It  was  little  more  than  a  conjecture,  however,  hardly  a 
declaration  of  a  fixed  purpose ;  yet  he  was  not  timid 
in  declaring  his  opinions  when  fully  formed  and  the 
occasion  demanded  it,  and  in  his  letter  to  the  Whigs 
of  Maine,  dated  the  9th  of  August,  he  unhesitatingly 
affirmed  his  position.  This  letter  was  in  answer  to  an 
urgent  request  from  the  Whig  State  Committee  to  ad 
dress  the  people  at  a  mass  meeting  in  Waterville. 

To  E.  W.  PARLEY,  and  other  gentlemen,  of  the  Maine  Whig  State 
Central  Committee. 

"BOSTON,  Aug.  9,  1856. 

"GENTLEMEN,  —  Upon  my  return  last  evening,  after  a 
short  absence  from  the  city,  1  found  your  letter  of  the  30th 
ult.,  inviting  me  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Whigs 
of  Maine,  assembled  in  mass  meeting. 

"  I  appreciate  most  highly  the  honor  and  kindness  of  this 
invitation,  and  should  have  had  true  pleasure  in  accepting  it. 
The  Whigs  of  Maine  composed  at  all  times  so  important  a 
division  of  the  great  national  party,  which,  under  that  name, 


2  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.         [CRAP.  IX. 

with  or  without  official  power,  as  a  responsible  administration, 
or  as  only  an  organized  opinion,  has  done  so  much  for  our 
country,  —  our  whole  country,  —  and  your  responsibilities  at 
this  moment  are  so  vast  and  peculiar,  that  I  acknowledge  an 
anxiety  to  see  —  not  wait  to  hear  —  with  what  noble  bearing 
you  meet  the  demands  of  the  time.  If  the  tried  legions,  to 
whom  it  is  committed  to  guard  the  frontier  of  the  Union, 
falter  now,  who,  anywhere,  can  be  trusted? 

"  My  engagements,  however,  and  the  necessity  or  expedi 
ency  of  abstaining  from  all  speech  requiring  much  effort,  will 
prevent  my  being  with  you.  And  yet,  invited  to  share  in 
your  counsels,  and  grateful  for  such  distinction,  J  cannot 
wholly  decline  to  declare  my  own  opinions  on  one  of  the  duties 
of  the  Whigs,  in  what  you  well  describe  as  'the  present 
crisis  in  the  political  affairs  of  the  country'.'  I  cannot  now, 
and  need  not,  pause  to  elaborate  or  defend  them.  What  I 
think,  and  what  I  have  decided  to  do,  permit  rue  in  the  brief 
est  and  plainest  expression  to  tell  you. 

"  The  first  duty,  then,  of  Whigs,  not  merely  as  patriots 
and  as  citizens,  —  loving,  with  a  large  and  equal  love,  our 
whole  native  land,  —  but  as  Whigs,  and  because  we  are 
Whigs,  is  to  unite  with  some  organization  of  our  countrymen, 
to  defeat  and  dissolve  the  new  geographical  party,  calling 
itself  Republican.  This  is  our  first  duty.  It  would  more 
exactly  express  my  opinion  to  say  that  at  this  moment  it  is 
our  only  duty.  Certainly,  at  least,  it  comprehends  and  sus 
pends  all  others  ;  and  in  my  judgment,  the  question  for  each 
and  every  one  of  us  is,  not  whether  this  candidate  or  that 
candidate  would  be  our  first  choice,  —  not  whether  there  is 
some  good  talk  in  the  worst  platform,  and  some  bad  talk  in 
the  best  platform,  — not  whether  this  man's  ambition,  or  that 
man's  servility  or  boldness  or  fanaticism  or  violence,  is  respon 
sible  for  putting  the  wild  waters  in  this  uproar;  —  but  just 
this,  —  by  what  vote  can  I  do  most  to  prevent  the  madness 
of  the  times  from  working  its  maddest  act,  —  the  very  ecstasy 
of  its  madness,  —  the  permanent  formation  and  the  actual 
present  triumph  of  a  party  which  knows  one-half  of  America 
only  to  hate  and  dread  it,  —  from  whose  unconsecrated  and 
revolutionary  banner  fifteen  stars  are  erased  or  have  fallen, 
—  in  whose  national  anthem  the  old  and  endeared  airs  of  the 
Eutaw  Springs  and  the  King's  Mountain  and  Yorktown,  and 
those,  later,  of  New  Orleans  and  Buena  Vista  and  Chapulte- 
pec,  breathe  no  more.  To  this  duty,  to  this  question,  all 


1855-1858.]     LETTER  TO  MAINE  WHIG  COMMITTEE.     303 

others  seem  to  me  to  stand  for  the  present  postponed  and 
secondary. 

"  And  why  ?  Because,  according  to  our  creed,  it  is  only 
the  united  America  which  can  peacefully,  gradually,  safely, 
improve,  lift  up,  and  bless,  with  all  social  and  personal  and 
civil  blessings,  all  the  races  and  all  the  conditions  which  com 
pose  our  vast  and  various  family,  —  it  is  such  an  America, 
only,  whose  arm  can  guard  our  flag,  develop  our  resources, 
extend  our  trade,  and  fill  the  measure  of  our  glory ;  and  be 
cause,  according  to  our  convictions,  the  triumph  of  such  a 
party  puts  the  Union  in  danger.  That  is  my  reason.  And 
for  you  and  for  me  and  for  all  of  us,  in  whose  regards  the  Union 
possesses  such  a  value,  and  to  whose  fears  it  seems  menaced 
by  such  a  danger,  it  is  reason  enough.  Believing  the  noble 
Ship  of  State  to  be  within  a  half  cable's  length  of  a  lee 
shore  of  rock,  in  a  gale  of  wind,  our  first  business  is  to  put 
her  about,  and  crowd  her  off  into  the  deep,  open  sea.  That 
done,  we  can  regulate  the  stowage  of  her  lower  tier  of  powder, 
and  select  her  cruising  ground,  and  bring  her  officers  to  court- 
martial  at  our  leisure. 

"  If  there  are  any  in  Maine  —  and  among  the  Whigs  of 
Maine  I  hope  there  is  not  one  —  but  if  there  are  any,  in 
whose  hearts  strong  passions,  vaulting  ambition,  jealousy  .of 
men  or  sections,  unreasoning  and  impatient  philanthropy,  or 
whatever  else  have  turned  to  hate  or  coldness  the  fraternal 
blood  and  quenched  the  spirit  of  national  life  at  its  source,  — 
with  whom  the  union  of  slave  States  and  free  States  under 
the  actual  Constitution  is  a  curse,  a  hindrance,  a  reproach,  — 
with  those  of  course  our  view  of  our  duty  and  the  reason  of 
it,  are  a  stumbling-block  and  foolishness.  To  such  you  can 
have  nothing  to  say,  and  from  such  you  can  have  nothing  to 
hope.  But  if  there  are  those  again  who  love  the  Union  as 
we  love  it,  and  prize  it  as  we  prize  it,  —  who  regard  it  as  we 
do,  not  merely  as  a  vast  instrumentality  for  the  protection  of 
our  commerce  and  navigation,  and  for  achieving  power,  emi 
nence,  and  name  among  the  sovereigns  of  the  earth,  but  as  a 
means  of  improving  the  material  lot,  and  elevating  the  moral 
and  mental  nature  and  insuring  the  personal  happiness  of  the 
millions  of  many  distant  generations,  —  if  there  are  those 
who  think  thus  justly  of  it,  and  yet  hug  the  fatal  delusion 
that,  because  it  is  good,  it  is  necessarily  immortal,  that  it  will 
thrive  without  care,  that  anj  thing  created  by  a  man's  will  is 
above  or  stronger  than  his  will,  that  because  the  reason  and 


304  MEMOIR    OF   KUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

virtues  of  our  age  of  reason  and  virtue  could  build  it,  the 
passions  and  stimulations  of  a  day  of  frenzy  cannot  pull  it 
down  ;  —  if  such  there  are  among  you,  to  them  address  your 
selves  with  all  the  earnestness  and  all  the  eloquence  of  men 
who  feel  that  some  greater  interest  is  at  stake,  and  some 
mightier  cause  in  hearing,  than  ever  yet  tongue  has  pleaded 
or  trumpet  proclaimed.  Jf  such  minds  and  hearts  are  reached, 
all  is  safe.  But  how  specious  and  how  manifold  are  the  soph 
isms  by  which  they  are  courted ! 

";They  hear  and  they  read  much  ridicule  of  those  who  fear 
that  a  geographical  party  does  endanger  the  Union.  But  can 
they  forget  that  our  greatest,  wisest,  and  most  hopeful  states 
men  have  always  felt,  and  have  all,  in  one  form  or  another, 
left  on  record  their  own  fear  of  such  a  party  ?  The  judg 
ments  of  Washington,  Madison,  Clay,  Webster,  on  the  dangers 
of  the  American  Union  —  are  they  worth  nothing  to  a  con 
scientious  love  of  it  ?  What  they  dreaded  as  a  remote  and 
improbable  contingency  —  that  against  which  they  cautioned, 
as  they  thought,  distant  generations  —  that  which  they  were 
so  happy  as  to  die  without  seeing — is  upon  us.  And  yet 
some  men  would  have  us  go  on  laughing  and  singing,  like  the 
traveller  in  the  satire,  with  his  pockets  empty,  at  a  present 
peril,  the  mere  apprehension  of  which,  as  a  distant  and  bare 
possibility,  could  sadden  the  heart  of  the  Father  of  his  Coun 
try,  and  dictate  the  grave  and  grand  warning  of  the  Farewell 
Address. 

"  They  hear  men  say  that  such  a  party  ought  not  to  en 
danger  the  Union  ;  that,  although  it  happened  to  be  formed 
within  one  geographical  section,  and  confined  exclusively  to 
it,  —  although  its  end  and  aim  is  to  rally  that  section  against 
the  other  on  a  question  of  morals,  policy,  and  feeling,  on 
which  the  two  differ  eternally  and  uuappeasably,  although, 
from  the  nature  of  its  origin  and  objects,  no  man  in  the 
section  outside  can  possibly  join  it,  or  accept  office  under  it, 
without  infamy  at  home,  —  although,  therefore,  it  is  a  stupen 
dous  organization,  practically  to  take  power  and  honor,  and  a 
full  share  of  the  government,  from  our  whole  family  of  States, 
and  bestow  them,  substantially,  all  upon  the  antagonist  family, 
—  although  the  doctrines  of  human  rights,  which  it  gathers  out 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  —  that  passionate  and 
eloquent  manifesto  of  a  revolutionary  war  —  and  adopts  as 
its  fundamental  ideas,  announce  to  any  Southern  apprehension 
a  crusade  of  the  government  against  slavery,  far  without  and 


1855-1858.]     LETTER  TO  MAINE  WHIG  COMMITTEE.     305 

beyond  Kansas,  —  although  the  spirit  and  tendency  of  its 
electioneering  appeals,  as  a  whole,  in  prose  and  verse,  the 
leading  articles  of  its  papers,  and  the  speeches  of  its  orators, 
are  to  excite  contempt  and  hate,  or  fear,  of  one  entire  geo 
graphical  section,  and  hate  or  dread  or  contempt  is  the 
natural  impression  it  all  leaves  on  the  Northern  mind  and 
heart ;  yet  that  no  body  anywhere  ought  to  be  angry,  or 
ought  to  be  frightened ;  that  the  majority  must  govern,  and 
that  the  North  is  a  majority ;  that  it  is  ten  to  one  nothing  will 
happen ;  that,  if  worst  comes  to  worst,  the  South  knows  it  is 
wholly  to  blame,  and  needs  the  Union  more  than  we  do,  and 
will  be  quiet  accordingly. 

"  But  do  they  who  hold  this  language  forget  that  the  ques 
tion  is  not  what  ought  to  endanger  the  Union,  but  what  will 
do  it  ?  Is  it  man  as  he  ought  to  be,  or  man  as  he  is,  that  we 
must  live  with  or  live  alone  ?  In  appreciating  the  influences 
which  may  disturb  a  political  system,  and  especially  one  like 
ours,  do  you  make  no  allowance  for  passions,  for  pride,  for 
infirmity,  for  the  burning  sense  of  even  imaginary  wrong  ? 
Do  you  assume  that  all  men,  or  all  masses  of  men  in  all  sec 
tions,  uniformly  obey  reason ;  and  uniformly  wisely  see  and 
calmly  seek  their  true  interests  ?  Where  on  earth  is  such  a 
fool's  Paradise  as  that  to  be  found  ?  Conceding  to  the  people 
of  the  fifteen  States  the  ordinary  and  average  human  nature, 
its  good  aud  its  evil,  its  weakness  and  its  strength,  I,  for  one, 
dare  not  say  that  the  triumph  of  such  a  party  ought  not  to  be 
expected  naturally  and  probably  to  disunite  the  States.  With 
my  undoubting  convictions,  I  know  that  it  would  be  folly  and 
immorality  in  men  to  wish  it.  Certainly  there  are  in  all  sec 
tions  and  in  all  States  those  who  love  the  Union,  under  the 
actual  Constitution,  as  Washington  did,  as  Jay,  Hamilton, 
and  Madison  did ;  as  Jackson,  as  Clay,  as  Webster  loved  it. 
Such  even  is  the  hereditary  and  the  habitual  sentiment  of 
the  general  American  heart.  But  he  has  read  life  and  books 
to  little  purpose  who  has  not  learned  that  *  bosom  friendships  ' 
may  be  '  to  resentment  soured/  and  that  no  hatred  is  so  keen, 
deep,  and  precious  as  that. 

'  And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love 
Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain.' 

He  has  read  the  book  of  our  history  to  still  less  purpose,  who 
has  not  learned  that  the  friendships  of  these  States,  sisters 
but  rivals,  sovereigns  each,  with  a  public  life,  and  a  body  of 

20 


306  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

interests,  and  sources  of  honor  and  shame  of  its  own  and  with 
in  itself,  distributed  into  two  great  opposing  groups,  are  of  all 
human  ties  most  exposed  to  such  rupture  and  such  transfor 
mation. 

"  I  have  not  time  in  these  hasty  lines,  and  there  is  no  need, 
to  speculate  on  the  details  of  the  modes  in  which  the  triumph 
of  this  party  would  do  its  work  of  evil.  Its  mere  struggle 
to  obtain  the  government,  as  that  struggle  is  conducted,  is 
mischievous  to  an  extent  incalculable.  That  thousands  of  the 
good  men  who  have  joined  it  deplore  this  is  certain,  but  that 
does  not  mend  the  matter.  I  appeal  to  the  conscience  and 
honor  of  my  country  that  if  it  were  the  aim  of  a  great  party, 
by  every  species  of  access  to  the  popular  mind,  —  by  elo 
quence,  by  argument,  by  taunt,  by  sarcasm,  by  recrimination, 
by  appeals  to  pride,  shame,  and  natural  right,  —  to  prepare 
the  nation  for  a  struggle  with  Spain  or  England  or  Austria, 
it  could  not  do  its  business  more  thoroughly.  Many  persons, 
many  speakers,  —  many,  very  many,  set  a  higher  and  wiser 
example ;  but  the  work  is  doing. 

"  If  it  accomplishes  its  objects  and  gives  the  government 
to  the  North,  I  turn  my  eyes  from  the  consequences.  To 
the  fifteen  States  of  the  South  that  government  will  appear 
an  alien  government.  It  will  appear  worse.  It  will  appear 
a  hostile  government.  It  will  represent  to  their  eye  a  vast 
region  of  States  organized  upon  anti-slavery,  flushed  by  tri 
umph,  cheered  onward  by  the  voices  of  the  pulpit,  tribune, 
and  press ;  its  mission  to  inaugurate  freedom  and  put  down 
the  oligarchy  ;  its  constitution  the  glittering  and  sounding 
generalities  of  natural  right  which  make  up  the  Declaration 
of  Independence.  And  then  and  thus  is  the  beginning  of  the 
end. 

"  If  a  necessity  could  be  made  out  for  such  a  party  we 
might  submit  to  it  as  to  other  unavoidable  evil,  and  other  cer 
tain  danger.  But  where  do  they  find  that  ?  Where  do  they 
pretend  to  find  it  ?  Is  it  to  keep  slavery  out  of  the  territo 
ries  ?  There  is  not  one  but  Kansas  in  which  slavery  is 
possible.  No  man  fears,  no  man  hopes,  for  slavery  in  Utah, 
New  Mexico,  Washington,  or  Minnesota.  A  national  party 
to  give  them  freedom  is  about  as  needful  and  about  as  feasi 
ble  as  a  national  party  to  keep  Maine  for  freedom.  And 
Kansas  !  Let  that  abused  and  profaned  soil  have  calm  within 
its  borders ;  deliver  it  over  to  the  natural  law  of  peaceful 
and  spontaneous  immigration  ;  take  off  the  ruffian  hands  ; 


1855-1858.]     LETTER  TO  MAINE  WHIG  COMMITTEE.     307 

strike  down  the  rifle  and  the  bowie-knife  ;  guard  its  strenuous 
infancy  and  youth  till  it  comes  of  nge  to  choose  for  itself,  — 
and  it  will  choose  freedom  for  itself,  and  it  will  have  for  ever 
what  it  chooses. 

"  When  this  policy,  so  easy,  simple,  and  just,  is  tried  and 
fails,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  resort  to  revolution.  It  is  in 
part  because  the  duty  of  protection  to  the  local  settler  was 
not  performed,  that  the  Democratic  party  has  already  by  the 
action  of  its  great  representative  Convention  resolved  to  put 
out  of  office  its  own  administration.  That  lesson  will  not 
and  must  not  be  lost  on  anybody.  The  country  demands 
that  Congress,  before  it  adjourns,  give  that  territory  peace. 
If  it  do,  time  will  inevitably  give  it  freedom. 

"  I  have  hastily  and  imperfectly  expressed  my  opinion 
through  the  unsatisfactory  forms  of  a  letter,  as  to  the  im 
mediate  duty  of  Whigs.  We  are  to  do  what  we  can  to  defeat 
and  disband  the  geographical  party.  But  by  what  specific 
action  we  can  most  effectually  contribute  to  such  a  result  is  a 
question  of  more  difficulty.  It  seems  now  to  be  settled  that 
we  present  no  candidate  of  our  own.  If  we  vote  at  all,  then, 
we  vote  for  the  nominees  of  the  American  or  the  nominees  of 
the  Democratic  party.  As  between  them  I  shall  not  venture 
to  counsel  the  Whigs  of  Main»j,  but  I  deem  it  due  to  frank 
ness  and  honor  to  say,  that  while  I  entertain  a  high  apprecia 
tion  of  the  character  and  ability  of  Mr.  Fillmore,  1  do  not 
sympathize  in  any  degree  with  the  objects  and  creed  of  the 
particular  party  that  nominated  him,  and  do  not  approve  of 
their  organization  and  their  tactics.  Practically,  too,  the  con 
test  in  my  judgment  is  between  Mr.  Buchanan  and  Col. 
Fremont.  In  these  circumstances,  I  vote  for  Mr.  Buchanan. 
He  has  large  experience  in  public  affairs;  his  commanding 
capacity  is  universally  acknowledged;  his  life  is  without  a 
stain.  I  am  constrained  to  add  that  he  seems  at  this  moment, 
by  the  concurrence  of  circumstances,  more  completely  than 
any  other,  to  represent  that  sentiment  of  nationality,  tolerant, 
warm,  and  comprehensive,  —  without  which,  without  increase 
of  which,  America  is  no  longer  America ;  and  to  possess  the 
power  and  I  trust  the  disposition  to  restore  and  keep  that 
peace,  within  our  borders,  and  without,  for  which  our  hearts 
all  yearn,  which  all  our  interests  demand,  through  which  and 
by  which  alone  we  may  hope  to  grow  to  the  true  greatness 
of  nations.  "  Very  respectfully, 

"  Your  fellow-citizen, 

"  Rurus  CHOATE." 


308  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  IX. 

Tliis  letter  was  no  sooner  published  than  solicitations 
came,  almost  without  number,  to  take  part  in  the  po 
litical  campaign.  Committees  from  New  York  and 
Philadelphia  urged  him  with  an  importunity  which  it 
was  very  difficult  to  resist.  He  determined  at  last  to 
make  one  speech,  and  but  one.  He  chose  the  place, 
Lowell,  —  an  important  manufacturing  city  in  Middle 
sex  County,  the  county  which  holds  Bunker  Hill  and 
Lexington.  An  immense  crowd  assembled  to  hear 
him  on  the  28th  of  October.  It  was  an  unwonted  and 
hard  thing  for  him  to  leave,  even  for  a  time,  those  with 
whom  he  had  always  been  politically  associated,  and 
join  those  whom  he  had  always  opposed.  If  ever 
one  were  controlled  by  a  high  sense  of  public  duty,  he 
certainly  was  in  that  difficult  step.  He  sought  neither 
honor,  nor  office,  nor  emolument ;  nothing  but  the 
greater  safety  and  welfare  of  the  country  could  repay 
him.  There  was  a  tone  of  deprecation  in  some  parts 
of  the  speech  which  marked  his  deep  feeling.  "  Cer 
tainly,"  he  said,  "  somewhat  there  is  in  the  position  of 
all  of  us  a  little  trying.  Ties  of  years  which  knit  some 
of  us  together  are  broken.  Cold  regards  are  turned 
on  us,  and  bitter  language,  and  slander  cruel  as  the 
grave,  is  ours. 

'  I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 
That  were  most  precious  to  me.' 

You  have  decided,  Fellow-Whigs,  that  you  can  best 
contribute  to  the  grand  end  we  all  seek,  by  a  vote 
for  Mr.  Fillmore.  I,  a  Wjiiigall^my^  life,  a  Whig  in  all 
things,  and  as  regards  all"otHeriiames,  a  Whig  to-day, 
have  thought  I  could  discharge  my  duty  most  effect 
ually  by  voting  for  Mr.  Buchanan  and  Mr.  Breckin- 


1855-1858.]  ADDRESS   AT  LOWELL.  309 

ridge  ;  and  I  shall  do  it.  The  justice  I  am  but  too 
happy  in  rendering  you,  will  you  deny  to  me  ?  In  do 
ing  this  I  neither  join  the  Democratic  party,  nor  retract 
any  opinion  on  the  details  of  its  policy,  nor  acquit  it  of 
its  share  of  blame  in  bringing  on  the  agitations  of  the 
hour.  .  .  .  There  never  was  an  election  contest  that, 
in  denouncing  the  particulars  of  its  policy,  I  did  not 
admit  that  the  characteristic  of  the  Democratic  party 
was  this,  that  it  had  burned  ever  with  the  great  master- 
passion  this  hour  demands,  —  a  youthful,  vehement, 
exultant,  and  progressive  nationality.  Through  some 
errors,  into  some  perils,  it  has  been  led  by  it ;  it  may 
be  so  again  ;  we  may  require  to  temper  and  restrain 
it ;  but  to-day  we  need  it  all,  we  need  it  all!  the  hopes, 
the  boasts,  the  pride,  the  universal  tolerance,  the  gay 
and  festive  defiance  of  foreign  dictation,  the  flag,  the 
music,  all  the  emotions,  all  the  traits,  all  the  energies, 
that  have  won  their  victories  of  war,  and  their  miracles 
of  national  advancement,  —  the  country  needs  them  all 
now,  to  win  a  victory  of  peace.  That  done,  I  will  pass 
again,  happy  and  content,  into  that  minority  of  con 
servatism  in  which  I  have  passed  my  life." 

The  meeting  had  assembled  in  the  largest  hall  in  the 
city,  which  was  densely  packed.  It  was  estimated 
that  from  four  to  five  thousand  persons  were  present. 
The  committee  of  arrangements,  with  the  orator,  could 
with  great  difficulty  force  their  way  to  the  platform. 
The  meeting  was  soon  organized,  and  the  president  had 
hardly  begun  to  make  a  preliminary  address,  when  a 
dull,  heavy  sound  like  a  distant  cannon  was  heard, 
and  the  floor  evidently  yielded.  A  general  fright 
seemed  to  pervade  the  audience,  which  was  assuaged 
only  by  assurances  of  safety,  and  that  an  examination 


310  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

of  the  supports  of  the  building  should  at  once  be  made 
by  an  experienced  architect.  The  agitation  having 
subsided,  Mr.  Choate  rose  and  was  hailed  with  a  storm 
of  applause,  such  as  even  he  had  rarely  heard  before. 
He  proceeded  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  when  again  that 
ominous  sound  was  heard,  and  the  floor  was  felt  sink 
ing  as  before.  Mr.  Choate  paused,  and  the  fear  of  the 
crowd  was  partially  quieted  a  second  time  by  an  assur 
ance  of  an  immediate  inspection  of  the  building,  and  if 
it  should  not  be  found  safe,  an  adjournment  to  some 
other  place.  The  architect  who  first  went  to  examine 
the  supports  had  not  come  back.  General  Butler, 
who  was  presiding,  said  that  he  would  go  and  ascertain 
the  condition  of  things,  and  return  and  report.  He 
went,  and  to  his  horror  found  that  several  of  the  rods 
by  which  the  floor  was  sustained  had  drawn  through 
the  timbers,  that  the  ceiling  below  was  opening,  and 
that  the  slightest  movement  or  demonstration  of  ap 
plause  would  be  likely  to  bring  the  floor,  the  roof,  and 
probably  the  walls,  to  the  ground,  with  a  destruction 
of  life  too  awful  to  think  of.  Comprehending  all  the 
peril,  he  forced  his  way  in  again  through  the  crowd, 
till  he  reached  the  platform,  and  then  calmly  address 
ing  the  audience  told  them  that  though  there  might  be 
no  immediate  danger,  as  they  had  been  interrupted 
twice  and  some  were  timid,  it  would  be  best  quietly 
and  without  haste  to  leave  the  hall.  'This  is  the  place 
of  greatest  danger,'  he  said,  '  and  I  shall  stand  here 
till  all  have  gone  out.'  The  hall  was  at  once  cleared, 
those  on  the  platform  going  last ;  and  it  is  said  that  as 
they  were  walking  out  the  floor  again  sprung  for  an 
inch  or  two.  Not  till  all  were  safe,  did  they  under 
stand  the  imminent  peril  in  which  they  had  been  ;  how 


1855-1858.]     LETTER  TO  JOHN  CARROLL  WALSH.         311 

near  to  a  catastrophe,  to  which  that  of  the  Pemberton  Mill 
might  have  been  a  mercy.  The  crowd  soon  forgot  the 
danger,  and  were  so  eager  for  the  continuance  of  the 
speech,  that  Mr.  Choate,  who  had  retired  to  the  hotel, 
and  was  suffering  from  an  incipient  illness,  addressed 
the  assembled  masses  for  some  time  from  a  platform 
hastily  erected  in  front  of  one  of  the  windows. 

It  was  natural  that  his  determination  to  vote  for  Mr. 
Buchanan  should  be  regarded  with  sorrow  by  those 
with  whom  he  had  always  been  associated,  and  perhaps 
not  very  surprising  that  he  should  have  received 
anonymous  letters  filled  with  abuse  and  threats,  some 
of  them  frightful  in  their  malignity.  After  the  elec 
tion,  it  was  intimated  to  him,  that  any  honorable  posi 
tion  under  the  government,  that  he  might  desire,  would 
be  at  his  disposal.  But  he  was  determined  to  receive 
nothing,  nor  allow  the  remotest  suspicion  to  attach  to 
his  motives.  Some  doubted  the  necessity  or  the  wis 
dom  of  his  course  ;  but  none  who  knew  him  distrusted 
the  depth  and  sincerity  of  his  convictions,  or  the  im 
maculate  purity  of  his  patriotism.  Misjudgment  and 
censure  he  expected  to  receive,  but  charges  of  merce 
nary  or  malignant  motives  he  could  not  overlook.  Such 
having  been  brought  to  his  notice  as  made  in  Maryland, 
he  replied  to  his  informant  by  the  following  letter  :  —  - 

To  JOHN  CARROLL  WALSH,  Harford  Co.,  Maryland. 

"  Boston,  Sept.  15,  1856. 

"DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  letter  informing  me  that  Mr.  Davis 
asserted  in  a  public  speech  that  the  secret  of  my  opposition  to 
Mr.  Fillmore  was  disappointment,  created  by  not  receiving 
from  him  an  office  which  I  sought  and  desired,  was  received  a 
little  out  of  time.  I  thank  you  for  affording  me  an  opportu 
nity  to  answer,  at  the  first  moment  of  hearing  it,  a  statement 
so  groundless  and  so  unjust.  There  is  not  a  particle  of  truth 


312  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

in  it,  nor  is  there  any  thing  to  color  or  to  suggest  Ms  infor 
mant's  falsehood.  I  authorize  and  request  you,  if  you  attach 
a  iv  importance  to  the  matter,  to  give  it  the  most  absolute  and 
comprehensive  denial.  I  never  sought  an  office  from  Mr. 
Fillmore  directly  or  indirectly,  and  never  requested  or  author 
ized  any  other  person  to  do  so  for  me,  and  never  believed  for 
a  moment,  or  su-pected,  and  do  not  now  believe  or  suspect, 
that  any  one  has  done  so,  or  has  even  mentioned  my  name  to 
him  in  connection  with  an  office.  Mr.  Fillmore  never  had  a 
place  in  his  gift  which  I  desired,  or  which  I  could  have  af 
forded  to  accept,  even  if  I  had  thought  myself  competent  to 
fill  it,  or  for  which  I  could,  under  any  circumstances,  have  ex 
changed  the  indispensable  labor  of  my  profession.  Personal 
complaint  of  Mr.  Fillmore  I  have  not  the  slightest  reason  to 
make  ;  and  he  who  thinks  it  worth  his  while  to  conjecture 
why  I  shall  not  vote  for  him,  must  accept  from  me,  or  fabri 
cate  for  himself,  a  different  explanation. 

44  With  great  regard,  your  servant  and  fellow-citizen, 

"  RCFUS  CHOATE." 

The  key  to  Mr.  Choate's  public  life,  especially  his 
later  life,  may  be  found  in  two  grand  motives :  the 
first,  his  strong  American  feeling ;  the  second,  his  love 
of  the  Union.  The  former  led  him  to  sustain  the 
country,  its  institutions,  and  public  policy,  as  dis 
tinguished  from  those  of  the  Old  World.  The  latter 
made  him  as  careful  of  the  rights,  as  respectful  to  the 
feelings,  the  sentiments,  the  habits,  of  the  South  as  of 
the  North,  of  the  West  as  of  the  East.  He  felt  that 
sufficient  time  had  not  yet  elapsed  thoroughly  to  prove 
the  power  and  virtues  of  the  Republic,  or  suggest  an 
adequate  remedy  for  its  defects.  He  felt  that  to  per 
petuate  a  government  strong  but  liberal  —  considerate 
of  every  interest  and  oppressive  of  none  —  requires 
great  breadth  and  intensity  of  patriotism,  much  for 
bearance  of  sectional  ignorance  and  prejudice,  a  con 
ciliatory  and  just  spirit,  a  large  prudence,  and  a  liberal 
regard  to  wants  and  interests  as  diverse  as  the  races 


1855-1858.]  HIS   LIBRARY.  313 

which  march  under  the  one  national  banner,  and  pro 
fess  allegiance  to  a  common  government,  or  the  produc 
tions  and  pursuits  of  our  various  climate  and  soil. 
The  State  he  loved,  as  one  would  love  a  father.  The 
faults  of  the  State  he  would  not  make  the  ground  of 
party  exultation,  or  parade  them  for  universal,  indis 
criminate,  and  barren  censure,  but  would  rather  shun, 
and  if  possible  cure,  or  at  least  cover  with  a  filial 
sorrow,  —  diclitans,  domestica  mala  tristitia  operienda. 
He  shared  largely  the  fears  of  the  wisest  and  most  far- 
sighted  statesmen,  but  still  trusted  that  under  a  mag 
nanimous  public  policy,  time  would  more  completely 
consolidate  the  races  and  States,  evils  would  be  gradu 
ally  corrected,  and  the  spirit  of  nationality  —  deeply 
imbedded  in  the  affections  and  interests  —  would  rise 
supreme  over  every  local  ambition  or  sectional  scheme. 
Mr.  Choate's  position  was  now  such  as  any  one  might 
envy.  As  a  statesman,  his  ideas  and  policy  had  noth 
ing  narrow  or  sectional.  They  embraced  the  welfare 
of  the  whole  country,  and  of  every  part  of  it.  He  was 
identified  with  whatever  in  patriotism  was  most  gener 
ous  and  unselfish.  In  his  profession  he  had  won  the 
love,  as  well  as  the  admiration,  of  his  brethren.  He 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  New  England  Bar ;  nor  was 
there  in  the  country  an  advocate  whose  well-earned 
reputation  surpassed  his.  Too  liberal  to  acquire  an 
ample  fortune,  he  had,  nevertheless,  secured  a  compe 
tence.  His  family  was  still  almost  unbroken.  Two  of 
his  daughters  were  married,1  and  lived  very  near  him. 
His  residence  and  his  library  had  been  every  year  grow 
ing  more  and  more  to  his  mind.  His  library  had 

i  His  eldest  daughter  to  Joseph  M.  Bell,  Esq. ;  and  his  youngest  to 
Edward  Ellerton  Pratt,  Esq. 


314  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

always  been  an  object  of  special  interest.  On  moving 
into  his  house  in  Winthrop  Place,  it  filled  a  front 
chamber  directly  over  the  parlor.  Soon  overflowing,  it 
swept  away  the  partition  between  that  and  a  small  room 
over  the  front  entry.  Then,  accumulating  still  more 
rapidly,  it  burst  all  barriers  and  filled  the  whole  second 
story.  A  friend  visiting  him  one  day,  asked  how  he 
contrived  to  gain  from  Mrs.  Choate  so  large  a  part  of  the 
house.  "  Oh,"  said  he,  in  a  most  delightfully  jocular 
tone,  "  by  fighting  for  it."  It  was  indeed  a  charming 
retreat.  Every  wall,  in  all  the  irregularities  of  the 
room,  filled  with  crowded  bookcases,  with  here  and 
there  choice  engravings  and  pictures  in  unoccupied 
places,  or  on  frames  arranged  expressly  to  hold  them  ; 
with  tables,  desks,  luxurious  chairs,  and  lounges, — 
all  for  use  and  nothing  for  show,  though  elegant,  —  all 
warm,  familiar,  and  inviting.  His  library  was  rich  in 
English  literature  and  learning  in  all  its  branches,  and 
in  choice  editions  of  the  classics  ;  well,  though  not  am 
ply,  provided  with  modern  foreign  literature ;  and 
thoroughly  stocked  with  all  the  apparatus  of  dictiona 
ries,  gazetteers,  and  maps,  which  a  scholar  constantly 
needs.  It  numbered,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  about 
seven  thousand  volumes.  His  law  library,  it  may  be 
here  stated,  consisted  of  about  three  thousand  volumes, 
and,  I  am  informed  by  those  familiar  with  it,  was  one 
of  the  best  professional  libraries  in  the  State. 

The  next  two  years  of  Mr.  Choate's  life  were  diver 
sified  by  little  besides  the  ordinary  varieties  of  his  pro 
fession.  In  February,  1857,  he  delivered  before  the 
Mechanic  Apprentices'  Library  Association  a  lecture 
on  the  "  Eloquence  of  Revolutionary  Periods,"  in 
which  he  dwelt  especially  on  Demosthenes  and  Cicero. 


1855-1858.]        DEFENCE   OF  MRS.  DALTON.  315 

It  is  full  of  high  thoughts,  and  raises  one  by  its  beauty 
and  magnanimity.  Its  eloquent  defence  of  Cicero  was 
harshly  criticised,  —  one  hardly  knows  why,  —  by  some 
who  accept  the  later  theories  of  Cicero's  life ;  but  was 
received  with  rare  satisfaction  by  the  lovers  of  the 
patriotic  Roman,  —  nearly  the  most  eloquent  of  the 
Ancients. 

In  May  of  the  same  year  he  made  his  powerful  and 
successful  defence  of  Mrs.  Dalton.  This  case  excited 
great  interest  from  the  respectability  of  the  parties, 
from  the  circumstances  which  preceded  the  trial,  as 
well  as  from  the  great  ability  of  the  advocates  on  both 
sides.1  Its  details,  however,  true  or  false,  were  such 
as  almost  of  necessity  to  exclude  it,  and  the  argument 
based  upon  it,  from  full  publication.  Shortly  after  his 
marriage,  nearly  two  years  before,  Mr.  Dalton  dis 
covered  what  he  thought  an  improper  intimacy  between 
his  wife  and  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Sumner. 
As  a  result  of  this,  Sumner  was  induced  to  go  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Coburn  (who  had  married  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Dalton)  in  Shawmut  Avenue,  where  he  was  confronted 
with  Mrs.  Dalton,  was  attacked  by  Dalton  and  Coburn, 
beaten  and  driven  from  the  premises.  He  went  home 
to  Milton,  where  soon  after  he  was  taken  sick  and  died. 
The  story  found  its  way  into  the  newspapers,  with  the 
usual  exaggerations  and  inaccuracies.  The  death  of 
Sumner  increased  the  popular  excitement,  and  Dalton 
was  arrested  and  imprisoned  on  a  charge  of  murder. 
After  lying  in  jail  more  than  a  month,  the  grand  jury, 
on  examining  the  case,  indicted  him  for  manslaughter, 
and  for  assault  and  battery.  On  the  former  charge  he 
was  acquitted ;  to  the  latter  he  pleaded  guilty  and  was 

1  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  was  Mr.  Dalton's  counsel. 


316  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

condemned  to  an  imprisonment  of  five  months.  Soon 
after  going  to  jail  on  this  sentence,  he  filed  his  libel 
for  a  divorce.  To  hear  such  a  cause  in  public  before 
a  jury,  was  a  doubtful  experiment,  tried  then  for  the 
first  time.  Day  after  day,  for  nearly  three  weeks,  the 
court-room  had  been  crowded  by  an  eager  and  curious 
multitude,  watching  the  parties  who  sat  within  the  bar 
by  the  side  of  their  respective  counsel ;  watching  every 
movement  of  the  eminent  advocates  as  they  would  the 
players  of  a  great  game,  and  intently  listening  to  the 
revelations  of  the  evidence.  Day  by  day  the  larger 
audience  of  the  public  had  been  both  stimulated  and 
sickened  by  the  startling,  contradictory,  scandalous, 
and  disgusting  details  spread  wide  in  the  newspapers. 
All  were  waiting  with  curiosity  and  interest,  and  some 
with  intense  anxiety,  for  the  result  of  the  trial,  which 
at  length  drew  to  a  close.  The  doors  were  no  sooner 
opened  on  the  morning  when  the  argument  was  ex 
pected,  than  the  court-room  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity.  While  waiting  for  the  judge  to  take  his  seat, 
much  merriment  was  caused  by  a  grave  announcement 
from  the  Sheriff  that  the  second  jury,  which  had  been 
summoned  in  expectation  that  the  trial  would  be  ended, 
"  might  have  leave  to  withdraw."  As  this  was  at  the 
moment  when  expectation  was  at  the  highest,  and 
chairs  were  at  a  premium,  and  whoever  had  a  standing- 
place  felt  that  he  was  a  fortunate  man,  the  effect  may 
be  easily  imagined. 

Mr.  Choate  was  punctually  in  his  place  at  the  ap 
pointed  time  ;  behind  and  near  him  sat  his  young  client 
attended  by  her  mother  and  sister.  Not  far  distant, 
and  close  to  his  counsel,  his  eye  turned  often  to  the 
great  advocate  but  never  to  her,  was  a  fair  and  pleasant- 


1855-1858.]         DEFENCE   OF   MRS.   DALTON.  317 

looking  young  man  —  the  husband  suing  for  a  divorce 
from  a  wife  charged  with  the  most  serious  criminality. 
Immediately  on  the  opening  of  the  court,  Mr.  Choate 
rose,  and,  after  briefly  referring  to  a  case  or  two  in  a 
law-book,  commenced  in  a  grave  and  quiet  manner  by 
congratulating  the  jury  on  approaching,  at  least,  the 
close  of  a  duty  so  severe  and  so  painful  to  all.  He 
then  in  a  few  sentences,  with  a  felicity  which  has  sel 
dom  been  equalled,  professed  to  be  really  pleading  for 
the  interests  of  both  parties. 

"  It  very  rarely  happens  indeed,  gentlemen,  in  the 
trial  of  a  civil  controversy,  that  both  parties  have  an 
equal,  or  however,  a  vast  interest,  that  one  of  them, — 
in  this  case  the  defendant,  —  should  be  clearly  proved 
to  be  entitled  to  your  verdict.  Unusual  as  it  is,  such 
is  now  the  view  of  the  case  that  I  take ;  such  a  one  is 
the  trial  now  before  you.  To  both  of  these  parties  it 
is  of  supreme  importance,  in  the  view  that  I  take  of  it, 
that  you  should  find  this  young  wife,  erring,  indiscreet, 
imprudent,  forgetful  of  herself,  if  it  be  so,  but  innocent 
of  the  last  and  the  greatest  crime  of  a  married  woman. 
I  say,  to  both  parties  it  is  important.  I  cannot  deny, 
of  course,  that  her  interest  in  such  a  result  is,  perhaps, 
the  greater  of  the  two.  For  her,  indeed,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  every  thing  is  staked  upon  the  result. 
I  cannot,  of  course,  hope,  I  cannot  say,  that  any  ver 
dict  you  can  render  will  ever  enable  her  to  recall  those 
weeks  of  folly,  and  frivolity,  and  vanity,  without  a 
blush  —  without  a  tear;  I  cannot  desire  that  it  should 
be  so.  But,  gentlemen,  whether  these  grave  and  im 
pressive  proceedings  shall  terminate  by  sending  this 
young  wife  from  your  presence  with  the  scarlet  letter 
upon  her  brow ;  whether  in  this  her  morning  of  life, 


318  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS  CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

her  name  shall  be  thus  publicly  stricken  from  the  roll 
of  virtuous  women,  —  her  whole  future  darkened  by 
dishonor,  and  waylaid  by  temptation,  —  her  companions 
driven  from  her  side, — herself  cast  out,  it  may  be, 
upon  common  society,  the  sport  of  libertines,  unas 
sisted  by  public  opinion,  or  sympathy,  or  self-respect, 
—  this  certainly  rests  with  you.     For  her,  therefore,  I 
am  surely  warranted  in  saying,  that  more  than  her 
life  is  at  stake.     '  Whatsoever  things  are  honest,  what 
soever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely, 
whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any 
virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise,'  all  the  chances  that  are 
to  be  left  her  in  life  for  winning  and  holding   these 
holy,  beautiful,  and  needful  things,  rest  with  you.  .  .  . 
"  But  is  there  not  another  person,  gentlemen,  inter 
ested  in  these  proceedings  with  an  equal,  or  at  least  a 
supreme,  interest  with  the  respondent,  that  you  shall 
be  able  by  your  verdict  to  say  that  Helen  Dalton  is  not 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  adultery  ;  and  is  not  that  per 
son  her  husband  ?  ...  If  you  can  here  and  now  on 
this  evidence  acquit  your  consciences,  and  render  a 
verdict  that  shall  assure  this  husband  that  a  jury  of 
Suffolk  —  men  of  honor  and  spirit  —  some  of  them 
his  personal  friends,  believe  that  he  has  been  the  vic 
tim  of  a  cruel  and  groundless  jealousy ;    that   they 
believe  that  he  has  been  led  by  that  scandal  that  cir 
culates  about  him,  that  has  influenced  him  everywhere; 
that  he  has  been  made  to  misconceive  the  nature  and 
overestimate   the   extent  of  the   injury  his  wife  has 
done  him  ;  ...  if  you  can  thus  enable  him  to  see 
that  without  dishonor  he  may  again  take  her  to  his 
bosom,  let  me  ask  you  if  any  other  human  being  can 
do  another  so  great  a  kindness  as  this  ?  " 


1855-1858.]         DEFENCE   OF  MRS.   DALTON.  319 

He  then  went  on  throughout  the  day,  with  a  general 
statement  and  review  of  the  evidence,  so  as  to  concili 
ate  the  jury  to  the  theory  of  culpable  indiscretion 
indeed,  but  of  indiscretion  consistent,  after  all,  with  in 
nocence.  This  was  the  theme  of  all  the  variations  of 
that  music, — an  intimacy  light,  transient,  indiscreet, 
foolish,  inexcusable,  wrong,  yet  not  carried  to  the  last 
crime,  —  consistent  still  with  devoted  love  for  her  hus 
band,  whom  "  she  followed,  half  distracted,  to  the  jail, 
— hovering  about  that  cell, — a  beam  of  light,  a  dove  of 
constant  presence."  To  this  was  added  the  fact  that 
after  most  of  these  indiscretions  were  known  to  Dai- 
ton,  and  after  the  scene  when  Sumner  was  assaulted 
and  driven  from  the  house,  he  still  loved,  cherished, 
and  lived  with  her,  and  wrote  that  series  of  letters 
from  the  jail  "  so  beautiful,  so  manly,  one  long,  un 
broken  strain  of  music,  the  burthen  of  which  is  home, 
sweet  home ;  and  you,  my  loved  one,  my  fond  one, — 
dearer  and  better  for  what  has  happened, — you  again 
to  fill,  illumine,  and  bless  it." 

These  thoughts  he  never  lost  sight  of  during  the 
long  and  varied  statement,  and  the  searching  examina 
tion  of  the  evidence,  which  followed.  A  part  of  that 
evidence  was  hard  to  evade.  Two  witnesses  had  sworn 
to  a  confession,  or  what  amounted  to  one,  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Dalton.  How  their  evidence  and  characters 
were  sifted,  no  one  can  forget  who  heard,  nor  fail  to 
understand,  who  reads.  They  crumbled  in  his  hand 
like  clay.  Sometimes  with  the  gravest  denunciation 
and  sometimes  with  the  keenest  ridicule,  he  demon 
strated  the  improbabilities  and  impossibilities  of  the 
testimony,  till  all  felt  that  if  there  was  not  perjury  there 
must  be  mistake.  Seldom  has  a  witness  been  held  up 


320  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

ill  a  light  more  irresistibly  ludicrous  than  John  H.  Co- 
burn,  who  had  confessed  to  making  false  representa 
tions  by  telegraphic  communications  and  otherwise,  in 
order  to  excite  the  fear  of  Mr.  Gove,  the  father  of 
Mrs.  Dalton,  and  extort  from  him  money  and  clothing 
(as  he  was  a  clothing  merchant).  "  He  found  out," 
said  the  advocate,  "  that  Mr.  Gove  was  extremely 
exercised  by  the  attack  upon  his  daughter,  4  and/  says 
he, c  1  will  have  a  jacket  and  trousers  out  of  this  busi 
ness, — I  see  pantaloons  there  ;  I  will  have  a  game  of 
billiards  and  a  suit  of  clothes,  or  I  am  nobody ! ' ! 
The  house  was  convulsed  with  laughter  at  the  ludi 
crous  picture.  At  the  same  time  he  was  most  careful 
not  to  carry  the  raillery  too  far.  u  I  am  bringing  him 
up  to  the  golden  tests  and  standards  by  which  the  law 
weighs  proof,  or  the  assayer  weighs  gold."  But  it 
might  be  said  that  this  proceeding  of  Coburn  was  only 
a  joke.  "  Practise  a  joke  under  those  circumstances ! " 
said  the  advocate.  "  Is  this  the  character  of  Coburn  V 
Why,  he  admitted  all  this  falsehood  on  the  stand  in 
such  a  winning,  ingenuous,  and  loving  way, —  that  he 
was  a  great  rogue  and  liar,  and  had  been  everywhere, 
—  that  we  were  almost  attracted  to  him.  It  is,  there 
fore,  fit  and  proper  we  should  know  that  this  winning 
confession  of  Coburn  on  the  stand  was  not  quite  so 
voluntary  after  all.  This  Coburn,  about  six  days  ago, 
was  attacked  by  a  very  bad  erysipelas  in  his  foot  or 
ankle.  In  my  humble  judgment  it  was  an  erysipelas  of 
apprehension  about  coming  into  the  court-house  to  tes 
tify  under  the  eye  of  the  court  and  jury.  But  he  was 
attacked  ;  and  accordingly  we  sent  a  couple  of  eminent 
physicians  —  Drs.  Dana  and  Durant — to  see  what  they 
could  do  for  him,  and  they  put  him  through  a  course  of 


1855-1858.]          DEFENCE   OF  MRS.   DALTON.  321 

warm  water  or  composition  powder,  or  one  thing  or 
another,  till  they  cured  the  erysipelas  beyond  all  doubt, 
gentlemen.  They  cured  the  patient,  but  they  killed  the 
witness.  [Here  the  sheriff  had  to  interfere  to  check  the 
laughter.]  So  the  man  came  upon  the  stand  and  ad 
mitted  he  sent  this  communication  by  telegraph,  and 
the  message  from  the  Parker  and  the  Tremont.  He 
swore  forty  times  very  deliberately  that  he  never  wrote 
one  of  them,  —  deliberately  and  repeatedly  over  and 
over  again, —  and  it  was  not  till  my  friend,  the  Doctor 
here,  had  turned  the  screw  about  a  hundred  times  with 
from  forty  to  fifty  interrogations,  that  he  was  beaten 
from  one  covert  into  another,  until  at  last  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  —  although  he  began  with  most  per 
emptorily  denying  it  altogether  —  that  he  sent  the 
telegraph  and  wrote  the  forged  communication  from 
the  Tremont  and  the  Parker  House." 

So  the  stream  of  argument  and  raillery,  and  sarcasm 
and  pathos,  rolled  on  ample,  unchecked,  and  over 
whelming,  for  two  long  summer  days  (no  one  in  the 
throng  of  auditors  restless  or  weary),  and  drew  to  its 
close  in  exquisite  quietness  and  beauty.  "  I  leave  her 
case,  therefore,"  said  the  advocate,  as  if  repeating  the 
refrain  of  a  hymn,  "  upon  this  statement,  and  respect 
fully  submit  that  for  both  their  sakes  you  will  render  a 
verdict  promptly  and  joyfully  in  favor  of  Helen  Dalton 
—  for  both  their  sakes.  There  is  a  future  for  them 
both  together,  gentlemen,  I  think.  But  if  that  be  not 
so,  —  if  it  be  that  this  matter  has  proceeded  so  far  that 
her  husband's  affections  have  been  alienated,  and  that 
a  happy  life  in  her  case  has  become  impracticable,  — 
yet  for  all  that,  let  there  be  no  divorce.  For  no  levity, 
no  vanity,  no  indiscretion,  let  there  be  a  divorce.  I 

21 


322  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

bring  to  your  minds  the  words  of  Him  who  spake  as 
never  man  spake  :  '  Whosoever  putteth  away  his  wife ' 
—  for  vanity,  for  coquetry,  for  levity,  for  flirtation  — 
whosoever  putteth  away  his  wife  for  any  thing  short  of 
adultery,  and  that  established  by  clear,  undoubted,  and 
credible  proof,  —  whosoever  does  it,  '  causeth  her  to 
commit  adultery.'  If  they  may  not  be  dismissed  then, 
gentlemen,  to  live  again  together,  for  her  sake  and  her 
parents'  sake  sustain  her.  Give  her  back  to  self-re 
spect,  and  the  assistance  of  that  public  opinion  which 
all  of  us  require." 

One  word  of  the  last  letter  of  the  wife  to  the  hus 
band,  and  a  single  echoing  sentence,  finished  this  re 
markable  speech.  " '  Wishing  you  much  happiness 
and  peace  with  much  love,  if  you  will  accept  it,  I  re 
main,  your  wife.'  So  may  she  remain  until  that  one  of 
them  to  whom  it  is  appointed  first  to  die  shall  find  the 
peace  of  the  grave  !  " 

The  mere  reading  of  this  argument  can  give  but 
a  feeble  idea  of  its  beauty  and  cogency  to  those  who 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  listen.  Oftentimes,  before  a 
legal  tribunal,  the  cause  is  greater  than  the  advocate. 
He  rises  to  it,  and  is  upheld  by  it.  But  sometimes  it 
is  his  province  to  create  an  interest,  which  the  subject 
itself  does  not  afford  ;  to  enliven  the  dull ;  to  dignify 
the  mean ;  to  decorate  the  unseemly.  The  body  may 
be  vile,  but  he  arrays  it  in  purple  and  crowns  it  with 
gems.  This  case,  though  with  some  elements  of  un 
usual  character,  would  probably  have  fallen  to  the 
dreary  level  of  similar  actions,  were  it  not  lifted  and 
enveloped  in  light  by  the  genius  of  the  advocate.  It 
is  like  some  of  those  which  made  Erskine  and  Curran 
famous ;  and  the  defence  shows  a  power  not  inferior  to 


1855-1858.]     LETTERS  TO  EDWARD  EVERETT.  323 

theirs.  As  a  result  of  it,  the  jury  disagreed ;  the  di 
vorce  was  not  consummated ;  and  it  is  understood  (as 
if  to  make  the  spirit  of  the  argument  prophetic)  that 
the  parties  are  now  living  together  in  harmony. 

The  following  letters  need  no  explanation  :  — 

To  HON.  EDWARD  EVERETT. 

"  BOSTON,  30th  September,  1857. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  was  sick  when  your  kindest  gift  of 
the  Inauguration  Discourse1  was  brought  in,  and  although 
able  to  read  it  instantly,  —  for  I  was  not  dying,  —  it  is  only 
now  that  I  have  become  able  to  thank  you  for  your  courtesy, 
and  to  express  the  exceeding  delight,  and,  as  it  were,  triumph, 
with  which  I  have  studied  this  most  noble  exposition  of  the 
good,  fair,  and  useful  of  the  high  things  of  knowledge.  To 
have  said  on  such  themes  what  is  new  and  yet  true,  in  words 
so  exact  as  well  as  pictured  and  burning,  and  in  a  spirit  so 
fresh  and  exulting,  and  yet  wise,  sober,  and  tender,  was,  I 
should  have  thought,  almost  impossible  even  for  you.  I  won 
der  as  much  as  I  love,  and  am  proud  for  you  on  the  double 
tie  of  friendship  and  of  country. 

"  I  remain,  with  greatest  regard, 

"  Your  servant  and  friend, 

"RuFus  CHOATE." 


To  HON.  EDWARD  EVERETT. 

"  WINTHROP  PLACE,  17th  November,  1857. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  was  not  aware  of  that  hiatus,  and  I 
made  an  exchange  of  my  21  vols.  for  a  set  extending  over  a 
longer  period,  and  containing  30  vols.  or  more.  I  have  found 
no  defect  that  I  remember.  I  beg  you  to  supply  your  imme 
diate  wants  from  this  one,  if  it  is  not  just  as  bad. 

"  There  is  a  certain  gloomy  and  dangerous  sense  in  which 
I  am  'gratified/  But  'renown  and  grace'  —  where  are 
they  ?  Such  a  series  of  papers  as  you  hint  at  would  '  bless 
mankind,  and  rescue '  Mr.  Buchanan.  I  entreat  you  to  give 
him  and  all  conservative  men  an  idea  of  a  patriot  administra- 

1  An  Address  delivered  at  St.  Louis,  at  the  Inauguration  of  "Wash 
ington  University  of  the  State  of  Missouri. 


324 


MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 


tion.  Kansas  must  be  free  —  sua  sponte  —  and  the  nation 
kept  quiet  and  honest,  yet  with  a  certain  sense  of  growth, 
nor  unmindful  of  opportunities  of  glory. 

"  Most  truly,  your  friend, 

"  R.  CHOATE." 


A  lecture  on  Jefferson,  Burr,  and  Hamilton,  which 
he  delivered  March  10th,  1858,  though  of  necessity 
general  and  somewhat  desultory,  was  marked  by  his 
usual  breadth  of  delineation  and  brilliancy  of  coloring, 
and  led  him  to  review  and  re-state  some  of  the  funda 
mental  ideas  which  marked  the  origin  and  progress  of 
our  government.  I  pass  by  his  delineation  of  Jeffer 
son,  who  brought  to  the  great  work  of  that  era  "  the 
magic  of  style  and  the  habit  and  the  power  of  delicious 
dalliance  with  those  large  and  fair  ideas  of  freedom 
and  equality,  so  dear  to  man,  so  irresistible  in  that 
day ;  "  and  of  Burr,  to  whom  he  was  just,  but  whom 
he  did  not  love,  and  whose  "  shadow  of  a  name  "  he 
thought  it  unfair  to  compare  for  a  moment  with  either 
of  the  others  ;  and  content  myself  with  the  conclusion 
of  his  sketch  of  Hamilton.  After  referring  to  the 
progress  and  the  changes  in  the  public  sentiment  of 
America,  by  which  the  Confederation,  largely  through 
Hamilton's  influence,  melted  into  the  Union,  he  pro 
ceeds  :  — 

"  I  find  him  [Hamilton]  growing  from  his  speech  in 
*  the  Great  Fields/  at  seventeen,  in  1774,  to  the  last 
number  of  4  The  Federalist.'  I  find  him  everywhere 
in  advance  ;  everywhere  frankest  of  our  public  men. 
Earlier  than  every  other,  bolder  than  every  other,  he 
saw  and  he  announced  that  the  Confederation  could 
not  govern,  could  not  consolidate,  could  not  create  the 
America  for  which  we  had  been  fighting.  Sooner  than 


1855-1858.]  LECTUKE  ON  HAMILTON.  325 

every  one  he  saw  and  taught  that  we  wanted,  not  a 
league,  but  a  government.  Sooner  than  every  one  he 
saw  that  a  partition  of  sovereignty  was  practicable,  — 
that  the  State  might  retain  part,  the  new  nation  acquire 
part ;  —  that  the  grander,  more  imperial  —  the  right  of 
war,  of  peace,  of  diplomacy,  of  taxation,  of  commerce, 
and  rights  similar  and  kindred  —  might  be  acquired 
and  wielded  directly  by  the  nation,  and  the  vast,  vari 
ous,  and  uncertain  residue  held  by  the  States,  which 
in  this  system  were  an  essential  part ;  —  that  the  result 
would  be  one  great  People  —  E  Pluribus  Unum  — 
master  of  a  continent,  a  match  for  a  world.  To  him 
more  than  to  all  or  any  one  besides  we  owe  it,  that 
the  convention  at  Annapolis  ascended  above  the  vain, 
timid,  and  low  hope  of  amending  the  old  Articles,  as 
sumed  the  high  character  of  a  direct  representation 
of  the  People  of  these  States,  and  took  on  themselves 
the  responsibility  of  giving  to  that  People  for  accept 
ance  or  rejection  —  by  conventions  in  their  States  —  a 
form  of  government  completely  new. 

"  These  speculations,  these  aims,  ruled  his  life  from 
1780  to  1789.  <  That  age  —  all  of  it  —  is  full  of  his 
power,  his  truth,  his  wisdom,'  —  full  to  running  over. 
Single  sentiments ;  particular  preferences,  minor,  and 
less  or  more  characteristic ;  less  cherished  details,  — 
modes,  stages,  proofs  of  opinion,  —  of  these  I  have 
said  nothing,  for  history  cares  nothing.  I  do  not 
maintain  that  he  did  as  much  in  the  convention  at 
Annapolis  as  others  to  shape  the  actual  provisions  of 
the  Constitution.  I  do  not  contend  that  he  liked  all  of 
them  very  well.  But  soldier-like,  statesman-like,  sailor- 
like,  he  felt  the  general  pulse  ;  he  surveyed  his  coun 
try  ;  he  heaved  the  lead  at  every  inch  of  his  way. 


326  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

His  great  letter  to  Duane  in  1780  anticipates  the 
Union  and  the  Government  in  which  we  live.  Through 
the  press,  in  the  Assembly  of  New  York,  in  the  old 
Congress,  to  some  extent  in  the  Constitutional,  and  to 
large  extent  in  the  State  Convention,  he  was  first ;  he 
who,  like  Webster,  never  flattered  the  people,  but 
served  them  as  he  did,  dared  to  address  their  reason, 
their  interests,  —  not  their  passion  of  progress, —  in 
1  The  Federalist.'  And  of  the  foremost  and  from  the 
start  he  espoused  that  Constitution  all  as  his,  and 
loved,  and  honored,  and  maintained  it  all  till  he  went 
to  his  untimely  grave. 

"  I  dwell  on  that  time  from  1780  to  1789  because 
that  was  our  age  of  civil  greatness.  Then,  first,  we 
grew  to  be  one.  In  that  time  our  nation  was  born. 
That  which  went  before  made  us  independent.  Our 
better  liberty,  our  law,  our  order,  our  union,  our  credit, 
our  commerce,  our  rank  among  the  nations,  our  page 
in  the  great  history  we  owe  to  this.  Independence  was 
the  work  of  the  higher  passions.  The  Constitution  was 
the  sloiv  product  of  wisdom.  I  do  not  deny  that  in  that 
age  was  sown  the  seed  of  our  party  divisions  ;  of  our 
strict  and  our  liberal  Constructionists  ;  of  our  Union 
ists  and  States  Rights  Men  ;  of  smaller  Hamiltons, 
and  smaller  Jeffersons.  But  who  now  dares  raise  a 
hand  against  the  system  which  illustrates  that  day  ? 
Who  dares  now  to  say  that  the  Union  shall  not  stand 
as  they  left  it  ?  Who  dares  now  to  say  that  the  wide 
arch  of  empire  ranged  by  them  shall  not  span  a  conti 
nent  ?  Who  dares  now  to  say  that  the  America  of  that 
day  ;  the  America  of  this  ;  the  America  of  all  time 
and  all  history,  is  not  his  own  America;  first,  last, 
midst ;  who  does  not  hail  on  that  flag,  streaming  over 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON  HAMILTON.  327 

land  and  sea,  —  living  or  dying,  —  the  writing,  bathed 
and  blazing  in  light,  '  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  for 
ever,  one  and  inseparable ! ' 

"  The  public  life  of  Hamilton  closes  with  the  fall  of 
Federalism,  in  1801,  as  a  party  of  the  nation.  In  his 
administration  as  first  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  in 
his  general  counsels  to  Washington,  in  his  general  in 
fluence  on  the  first  years  of  our  youthful  world,  you 
see  the  same  masterly  capacity ;  the  same  devotion  to 
the  Constitution  as  it  was  written,  and  to  the  Union 
which  it  helped  to  grow ;  the  same  civil  wisdom ;  the 
same  filial  love  ;  the  same  American  feeling ;  the  same 
transparent  truth  which  had  before  made  him  our  first 
of  statesmen.  Some,  all,  or  almost  all,  of  the  works 
which  he  did,  have  come  under  the  judgment  of  party 
and  of  time  ;  and  on  these,  opinions  are  divided.  But 
no  man  has  called  in  question  the  ability  which  estab 
lished  all  departments,  and  framed  and  presided  over 
that  one  ;  which  debated  the  constitutionality  and  ex 
pediency  of  that  small  first  Bank  ;  which  funded  our 
debts,  restored  order  to  our  credit ;  which  saw  in  us 
before  we  saw,  before  Smith  saw,  our  capacity  to  manu 
facture  for  ourselves  ;  which  made  us  impartial  and 
made  us  neutral  while  our  ancient  friends  became  a 
Republic,  and  our  ancient  enemy  and  the  world  were 
in  arms  for  old,  shaking  thrones.  When  that  argu 
ment  for  the  Bank  was  read  by  the  Judges  in  1819, 
one  of  them  said,  that  every  other  supporter  and  oppo 
nent  of  that  measure  in  the  age  of  Washington  seemed 
a  child  in  the  grasp  of  a  giant.  In  this  last  era  his 
difference  in  all  things  from  Jefferson  became  more 
widely  pronounced  ;  each  retired  from  the  cabinet ; 
and  in  1801  Democracy  became  the  national  politics  of 
America. 


328  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

"  I  have  avoided,  as  I  ought,  all  inquiry  into  the 
private  life  of  Burr.  I  am  equally  reserved  on  that 
of  Hamilton ;  although  that  private  life  fears  no  dis 
closures  as  a  whole,  and  no  contrasts  as  a  whole.  Yet 
this  sketch  would  be  imperfect  more  than  it  must  be, 
if  I  did  not  add  something  which  I  have  read,  heard, 
or  thought  on  the  man. 

"  From  1781  to  1789,  and  again  from  1795  till  his 
death  in  1804  —  some  seventeen  years  —  he  practised 
the  law.  I  hear  that  in  that  profession  he  was  wise, 
safe,  and  just ;  that  his  fees  were  moderate  ;  that  his 
honor  was  without  a  stain  ;  that  his  general  ability  was 
transcendent,  and  that  in  rank  he  was  leader.  A  gen 
tleman  from  this  city,  whose  name  I  might  give, 
solicited  his  counsel  in  some  emergency.  He  admired, 
as  all  did,  his  knowledge  of  men,  his  ingenuity,  his 
promptness  ;  and  tendered  him  a  fee  of  one  hundred 
dollars.  c  No,  Sir,'  said  Hamilton,  handing  him  back 
the  difference,  '  twenty  dollars  is  very  abundant.'  He 
was  consulted  by  a  guardian,  knavish  as  the  guardian 
of  Demosthenes.  He  heard  his  story  ;  developed  its  de 
tails  ;  ran  with  him  through  the  general  wilderness  of 
his  roguery  ;  and  then,  sternly  as  at  Yorktown,  — 
4  Now  go  and  make  your  peace  with  your  ward,  or  I 
will  hunt  you  as  a  hare  for  his  skin.'  There  was  a 
political  opponent,  —  oldish,  delicate,  and  prejudiced, 
—  who  hated  him  and  his  administration  of  the  treas 
ury,  but  who  lost  no  hour,  day  in  and  day  out,  at 
Albany,  in  the  Errors  and  Supreme  Court,  to  hear 
every  word  that  he  said.  '  I  could  never,'  said  he, 
4  withdraw  from  him  half  an  eye.  It  was  all  one 
steady,  flashing,  deepening  flow  of  mind.'  This  I 
heard  from  a  member  of  Congress. 


1855-1858.]  LECTURE   ON  HAMILTON.  329 

"  His  masterpiece  at  the  Bar  was  the  defence  of 
Croswell,  of  4  The  Balance,'  published  at  Hudson,  for  a 
libel,  in  1804.  It  is  reported  in  Johnson's  cases.  It 
is  better  reported  by  Chancellor  Kent,  who  heard  it ; 
by  the  universal  tradition,  which  boasts  of  it  as  of  the 
grandest  displays  of  the  legal  profession ;  and  by  the 
common  or  statute  law  of  America,  on  which  it  is 
written  for  ever.  There  and  then  he  engraved  on  our 
mind,  as  with  a  pen  of  steel,  the  doctrine,  that  truth 
from  right  motives,  for  justifiable  ends,  might  be  safely 
written  of  everybody,  high  or  low. 

"  Such  —  so  limited — is  our  unwritten  or  our  better 
liberty. 

"  That  argument  was  made  to  a  bench  of  Judges. 
It  was  made  to  an  audience  of  lawyers  and  educated 
men  ;  and  I  have  heard  that  tears  unbidden  —  silence 
that  held  his  breath  to  hear  applause  unrepressed  — 
murmurs  not  loud,  but  deep  —  marked  the  magic  and 
the  power. 

"  He  wrote  out  that  argument  at  length  ;  then  tore 
his  manuscript  in  fragments,  and  spoke  as  he  was 
moved  of  the  genius  within  him  ! 

"  Who  surpassed  him  as  a  reasoner?  You  all  know 
the  calm  power  of  '  The  Federalist.'  Do  you  admire 
any  thing  in  that  immortal  work  more  than  his  trans 
parent  and  quiet  style ;  his  pure  English,  always  equal 
to  itself;  his  skilful  interpretation ;  his  masterly  ability 
wtih  which  from  the  nature  of  man,  the  nature  of  gov 
ernment,  the  lessons  of  history,  the  past  and  present  of 
Europe,  the  uses  of  a  head,  the  uses  of  a  nation,  —  he 
demonstrated  that  such  powers  must  be  given,  and 
such  powers  are  given  ?  Who,  since  the  eighty-eighth 
number,  has  dared  to  doubt  that  to  the  judge  it  is  given 


330  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

to  compare  the  law  with  the  Constitution,  and  to  pro 
nounce  which  is  higher  ;  and  that  from  the  judge  there 
lies  no  appeal ! 

"  What  a  revolution  may  do  to  force  prematurely 
the  capacity  of  man,  we,  thank  God !  know  not.  What 
a  cross  of  Scotch  and  Huguenot  blood  ;  a  birth,  infan 
cy,  childhood,  and  boyhood  beneath  those  tropics  where 
the  earthquake  revels,  which  the  hurricane  sweeps 
over,  which  the  fever  wastes  at  noonday,  over  which 
the  sun  tyrannizes,  whose  air  is  full  of  electricity,  and 
whose  soil  is  of  fire,  —  personally  we  know  not.  But 
I  own  I  am  struck  with  nothing  more  than  the  preco- 
ciousness  of  those  mighty  powers,  and  their  equal, 
balanced,  and  safe  development.  At  seventeen,  lie  ad 
dressed  masses  on  non-importation  in  'the  Great 
Fields '  of  New  York,  with  the  eloquence  and  energy  of 
James  Otis.  At  eighteen,  he  was  among  our  ablest 
and  wisest  in  the  conduct  of  that  great  controversy 
with  the  measures  of  a  king.  At  twenty,  he  conceived 
our  Union.  At  thirty-two  he  wrote  his  share  of  '  The 
Federalist.'  At  thirty-eight  his  public  life  was  over. 
I  doubt  if  Pascal,  if  Grotius,  if  Cassar,  if  Napoleon,  had 
so  early  in  life  revealed  powers  vaster  and  maturer. 

"  There  is  one  memory  of  Hamilton  to  which  he  is 
entitled  in  his  bloody  grave,  and  by  which  his  truest 
eulogy  is  spoken,  which  refutes  of  itself  ten  thousand 
slanders,  and  which  blooms  over  him  —  over  Hoboken 
—  over  the  church  where  his  tomb  is  kept,  —  ever  fra 
grant  and  ever  new.  With  the  exception,  of  course,  of 
certain  political  opponents,  and  of  a  competitor  or  two, 
no  one  knew  him  who  did  not  dearly  love  him ;  no 
one  loved  him  once  that  did  not  love  him  to  the  last 
gasp.  From  the  moment  he  saw  and  talked  with  him 
as  Captain  of  Artillery,  from  the  hour  after  he  left  his 


1855-1858.]  LETTER  TO  GEO.  T.  DAVIS.  331 

military  family,  until  he  slept  that  long  sleep  at  Mount 
Vernon,  Washington  held  him  to  his  heart ;  and  when 
that  man  —  greatest  of  earth  —  died,  Hamilton  sat 
down  speechless  in  the  presence  of  Sedgwick,  pressed 
his  hand  upon  his  eyes,  and  cried  as  a  child  for  a  father 
dead.  <  The  tears,'  said  Ames,  '  that  flow  over  this 
fond  recital  will  never  dry  up.  My  heart,  prostrated 
with  the  remembrance  of  Hamilton,  grows  liquid  as  I 
write,  and  I  could  pour  it  out  like  water.' 

"  To  compare  the  claims  and  deeds  of  Burr  with 
those  of  this  great  man,  his  victim,  were  impious.  To 
compare  those  of  Hamilton,  or  contrast  them  with  those 
of  the  great  Philanthropist  and  Democrat,  Thomas 
Jefferson,  who  is  equal  ?  Each  in  his  kind  was 
greatest ;  each  in  his  kind  advanced  the  true  interests 
of  America." 

The  following  letter  will  illustrate  the  playful  mixt 
ure  of  literature  with  business,  which  often  charac 
terized  Mr.  Choate's  intercourse  with  friends.  It  oc 
curred  after  a  meeting  on  professional  affairs,  during 
which  a  question  —  forgotten,  however,  almost  as  soon 
as  proposed,  till  thus  again  brought  to  mind  —  had 
arisen  on  the  reading  of  a  passage  in  Yirgil. 

To  GEORGE   T.  DAVIS,  ESQ. 

"  Boston,  20th  April,  1858. 

"  DEAR  SIB,  —  I  am  glad  they  are  beaten,  as  they  deserve 
to  be.  Of  course,  no  adjustment  now  is  to  be  heard  of.  The 
motion  is  the  shadow  of  a  shade,  and  I  guess,  after  actual 
fraud  found,  the  bill  stands,  and  the  cancellation  follows,  — 
which  leads  me  to  say  how  Virgil  wrote  it,  averno,  or  averm. 
We  shall  never  know  till  we  ask  him  in  the  meads  of  Aspho 
del.  But  Forbiger,  Wagner,  Heyne,  Servius,  after  the  cracker 
MSS.,  write  averno.  So  in  the  more  showy  texts  it  is  now. 
When  we  meet  we  will  settle  or  change  all  that. 

"  Truly  yours,  RUFUS  CHOATE." 


332  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  IX. 

Iii  1858  Mr.  Choate  accepted  an  invitation  to  deliver 
an  oration,  on  the  4th  of  July,  before  the  Young  Men's 
Democratic  Club.  It  was  with  the  understanding, 
however,  that  no  party  affinities  were  to  be  recognized. 
He  spoke  for  the  Union,  and  his  subject  was  "  Ameri 
can  Nationality  —  its  Nature  —  some  of  its  Conditions, 
and  some  of  its  Ethics"  He  was  received  with  wild 
and  tumultuous  applause,  and  heard  with  profound 
interest  and  sympathy  by  the  multitudes  which  crowded 
the  Tremont  Temple  ;  but  many  were  pained  to  per 
ceive  the  marks  of  physical  weakness  and  exhaustion. 
He  spoke  with  difficulty,  and  could  hardly  be  heard 
throughout  the  large  hall.  But  there  was  an  earnest 
ness  and  almost  solemnity  in  his  words  which  sunk 
deep  into  the  hearts  of  the  audience.  It  was  a  plea 
for  the  nation,  in  view  of  a  peril  which  he  thought  he 
foresaw,  as  a  necessary  result  of  rash  "counsels,  of  a 
false  political  philosophy,  and  of  wild  theories  of  politi 
cal  morality.  He  never  again  addressed  his  fellow- 
citizens  on  questions  of  general  political  interests,  and 
his  last  public  words  may  be  said  to  have  been  spoken 
in  behalf  of  that  Union  which  he  so  warmly  loved,  — 
that  one  nation  whose  grand  march  across  the  conti 
nent,  whose  unrivalled  increase  in  all  the  elements  of 
power  so  stimulated  and  gratified  his  patriotic  ambi 
tion.  Whether  or  not  his  fears  were  wise,  we  may 
now  perhaps  be  better  able  to  judge  than  when  he  first 
uttered  them. 

How  his  words  were  received  by  those  who  heard 
him,  was  admirably  expressed  by  Mr.  Everett  at  a 
banquet,  on  the  same  afternoon,  at  the  Revere  House. 
"  For  myself,  Sir,"  he  said,  "  standing  aloof  from  pub 
lic  life  and  from  all  existing  party  organizations,  I  can 


1855-1858.]        REMARKS  OF  MR.  EVERETT.  333 

truly  say  that  I  have  never  listened  to  an  exposition  of 
political  principle  with  higher  satisfaction.  I  heard  the 
late  Mr.  Samuel  Rogers,  the  venerable  banker-poet  of 
London,  more  than  once  relate  that  he  was  present  on 
the  10th  of  December,  1790,  when  Sir  Joshua  Rey 
nolds  delivered  the  last  of  his  discourses  before  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Art.  Edmund  Burke  was  also  one 
of  the  audience ;  and  at  the  close  of  the  lecture  Mr. 
Rogers  saw  him  go  up  to  Sir  Joshua,  and  heard  him 
say,  in  the  fulness  of  his  delight,  in  the  words  of  Mil 
ton: — 

'  The  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear 
So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  awhile 
Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fixed  to  hear.' 

When  our  friend  concluded  his  superb  oration  this 
morning,  I  was  ready,  like  Mr.  Cruger  (who  stood  with 
Burke  for  the  representation  of  Bristol),  i  to  say  ditto 
to  Mr.  Burke.'  I  was  unwilling  to  believe  that  the 
noble  strain,  by  turns  persuasive,  melting,  and  sublime, 
had  ended.  The  music  of  the  voice  still  dwelt  upon 
my  ear ;  the  lofty  train  of  thought  elevated  and  braced 
my  understanding  ;  the  generous  sentiments  filled  my 
bosom  with  delight,  as  the  peal  of  a  magnificent  organ, 
touched  by  the  master's  hand,  thrills  the  nerves  with 
rapture  and  causes  even  the  vaulted  roof  to  vibrate  in 
unison.  The  charmed  silence  seemed  for  a  while  to 
prolong  the  charming  strain,  and  it  was  some  moments 
before  I  was  willing  to  admit  that  the  stops  were 
closed  and  the  keys  hushed," 


334  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 


CHAPTER  X. 

1868-1859. 

Failing  Health  —  Speech  at  the  Webster  Festival,  January,  1859  — 
Address  at  the  Essex  Street  Church  —  Last  Law  Case  —  Goes  to  Dor 
chester  —  Occupations  —  Decides  to  go  to  Europe  —  Letter  to  Hon. 
Charles  Eames  —  Letter  to  Alfred  Abbott,  Esq.  —  Sails  in  The 
Europa,  Capt.  Leitch  —  Illness  on  Board  —  Lands  at  Halifax  —  Let 
ter  from  Hon.  George  S.  Hillard — Sudden  Death  —  Proceedings  of 
Public  Bodies  —  Meeting  of  the  Boston  Bar  —  Speeches  of  Hon.  C. 
G.  Loring,  R.  H.  Dana,  Judge  Curtis  and  Judge  Sprague  —  Meeting 
in  Faneuil  Hall  —  Speech  of  Mr.  Everett  —  Funeral. 

FOR  several  years  Mr.  Choate's  health  had  not  un- 
frequently  excited  the  anxiety  of  his  friends.  They 
wondered  how  he  could  endure  such  continuous  and 
exhausting  labors  ;  why  he,  whose  mind  was  always 
on  the  stretch,  who  took  no  rest,  and  allowed  himself 
no  recreation  but  that  of  his  library,  should  not  at 
last  fail,  like  the  over-strained  courser.  Their  fears 
were  not  groundless.  The  deepening  lines  of  his 
countenance  pallid  and  sallow,  the  frame  feebler  than 
once,  the  voice  less  strong,  the  whole  manner  less 
energetic,  demonstrated  a  need  of  caution.  He  was 
under  an  engagement  to  address  the  Alumni  of  Dart 
mouth  College  at  their  triennial  meeting  in  1858,  and 
had  made  a  partial  preparation,  but  at  the  last  moment 
was  obliged  to  give  it  up,  and  betake  himself  for  a  few 
idle  and  wearisome  days  to  the  seaside.  A  week  or 
two  of  respite  from  work  —  it  could  not  be  called  rec 
reation —  a  brief  visit  at  Essex,  a  few  nights  in  Dor- 


1858-1859.]     ADDRESS  AT  ESSEX  STREET  CHURCH.     335 

Chester  at  the  residence  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Bell  — 
gave  tone  again  to  his  wonderfully  elastic  constitution. 
I  saw  him  repeatedly  during  the  next  winter,  and,  not 
withstanding  some  unfavorable  symptoms,  thought  that 
for  a  long  time  I  had  not  seen  him  in  such  exuberance 
of  spirits.  I  heard  him  make  two  arguments,  and  could 
not  but  notice  the  vigorous  life  with  which  he  moved. 
There  was  the  same  intellectual  face  —  the  same  eye, 
black,  wide  open,  looking  straight  at  the  jury,  and  at 
individuals  of  them  as  he  addressed  now  one  and  then 
another,  —  the  same  unrivalled  felicity  of  speech, — 
the  same  tremendous  vehemence,  a  little  tempered, 
perhaps,  —  the  same  manner  of  straightening  and 
drawing  himself  up  at  an  interruption,  —  the  same 
playfulness  and  good  humor,  —  the  occasional  drop 
ping  of  his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  —  the 
confident  exactness  of  statement,  —  the  absolute  com 
mand  of  every  circumstance,  —  the  instantaneous  ap 
prehension, —  the  lightning  rapidity  of  thought,  —  the 
subtle,  but  clear  and  impregnable  logic.  This  apparent 
vigor  proved,  however,  to  be  but  the  last  flashes  of  the 
fire  whose  fuel  was  nearly  exhausted. 

The  friends  of  Mr.  Webster,  according  to  a  custom 
which  had  grown  into  honor  among  them,  celebrated 
his  birthday  in  1859  by  a  festive  gathering,  which  Mr. 
Choate  found  himself  able,  though  but  just  able,  to 
attend.  With  what  warmth  he  spoke  on  that  theme 
which  never  failed  to  stimulate  him,  those  who  heard  will 
never  forget.  They  thought  he  was  never  so  eloquent. 

He  spoke  but  once  more  in  public  out  of  the  line  of 
his  profession.  The  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the 
settlement  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Adams,  whose  church  he 
attended,  was  celebrated  on  the  28th  of  March.  He 


336  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

could  not  resist  the  wish  to  bear  his  testimony  to  the 
opinions  and  character  of  one  whom  he  deeply  re 
spected  and  loved.  It  was  a  large  and  interesting 
assemblage  of  clergymen  and  laymen,  met  to  pay  a 
tribute  of  respect  to  a  faithful  Christian  minister.  Mr. 
Choate  spoke  with  great  tenderness  and  depth  of 
feeling  of  the  many  years  they  had  been  together  in 
that  society,  alluding  briefly,  in  illustration,  to  the 
great  events  which  in  the  mean  time  had  been  taking 
place  in  Europe  and  in  this  country.  He  then  spoke 
of  the  reasons  —  accident  or  inclination  —  which  had 
brought  them  to  that  house  as  their  habitual  place  of 
worship,  first  among  which  he  named  the  love  and 
respect  of  the  congregation  for  its  minister.  They  had 
marked  the  daily  beauty  of  his  life,  his  consistency, 
his  steadiness,  his  affectionateness,  his  sincerity,  — 
transparent  to  every  eye,  —  his  abilities,  his  modera 
tion,  his  taste,  his  courage.  They  had  seen  him  on 
some  occasions  most  interesting  to  the  feelings,  and 
which  dwell  the  longest  in  the  memory  and  the  affec 
tions  :  at  the  bedside  of  the  sick  and  dying,  at  the 
burial  of  those  loved  most  on  earth,  at  the  baptism  of 
their  children,  or  when  first  they  clasped  the  hands  of 
their  brides.  Thus  between  them  and  him  there  had 
been  woven  a  tie  which  could  never  be  sundered,  even 
when  the  silver  cord  itself  is  loosed  and  the  golden 
bowl  is  broken. 

"  There  is  a  second  reason,  however,"  he  proceeded 
to  say,  "  which  we  may  with  very  great  propriety  give 
for  the  selection  which  we  have  made,  and  to  which 
we  have  so  long  adhered ;  and  it  is,  my  friends,  that 
we  have  attended  this  worship  and  attached  ourselves 
to  this  society,  because  we  have  believed  that  we  found 


1858-1859.]     ADDRESS  AT  ESSEX-STREET  CHURCH.     337 

here  a  union  of  a  true  and  old  religion,  with  a  possi 
bility  and  the  duty  of  a  theory  of  culture  and  of  love 
for  that  in  which  the  mental  and  moral  nature  of  man 
may  be  developed  and  may  be  completely  accom 
plished. 

"  That  we  hold  a  specific  religious  creed,  is  quite 
certain  ;  obtruding  it  on  nobody,  and  not  for  a  mo 
ment,  of  course,  dreaming  of  defending  ourselves 
against  anybody,  —  in  the  way  of  our  fathers,  we 
worship  God  in  this  assembly.  We  believe  that  the 
sources  and  proof  and  authority  of  religion  rest  upon 
a  written  revelation,  communicated  by  the  Supreme 
Will  to  a  race  standing  in  certain  specific  abnormal  con 
ditions.  What  that  Will,  honestly  gathered,  teaches, 
composes  the  whole  religious  duty  of  man.  To  find 
out  that  meaning  by  all  the  aids  of  which  a  thorough 
and  an  honest  scholarship  may  possibly  avail  itself,  — 
by  the  study  of  original  tongues,  —  by  the  study  of 
the  history  and  government  and  manners  and  customs 
and  geography  of  the  nations  in  which  it  was  first 
published,  —  by  a  collation,  honestly  and  intelligently, 
of  one  version  with  another  version,  —  by  the  history 
of  creeds,  —  by  attending  especially  to  the  faith  of 
those  churches  who  thought  they  saw  the  light  at  first, 
and  saw  it  when  it  was  clearest  and  brightest,  —  by  all 
this,  we  say,  it  is  the  first  duty  of  the  minister  to  learn 
the  truth ;  and  the  second  duty  is  to  impress  it  by  per 
suasive  speech  and  holy  life  upon  the  consciences  and 
hearts  of  men.  These  things,  truly  and  honestly  in 
terrogated,  reveal  a  certain  state  of  truths,  and  these 
compose  our  creed,  and  the  creed  of  every  other  de 
nomination  possessing  and  preaching  and  maintaining 
a  kindred  theology.  Diversities  of  expression  there 

22 


338  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

are  undoubtedly  ;  diversities  of  the  metaphysical  theo 
ries  of  those  who  hold  them  ;  more  or  less  saliency, 
more  or  less  illustration  in  the  mode  in  which  they  are 
presented ;  but  substantially  we  have  thought  they 
were  one.  We  regard  the  unity,  and  we  forget  the 
diversity,  in  concentration  of  kindred  substances.  I 
think  our  church  began  with  the  name  and  in  the 
principle  of  Union  ;  and  in  that  name,  and  according 
to  that  principle,  we  maintain  it  to-day. 

"  And  now,  is  there  any  thing,  my  friends,  in  all  this, 
which  is  incompatible,  in  any  degree,  with  the  warmest 
and  most  generous  and  large  and  liberal  and  general 
culture,  with  the  warmest  heart,  with  the  most  expan 
sive  and  hopeful  philanthropy,  with  the  most  tolerant, 
most  cheerful,  most  charitable  love  of  man  ?  Do  we 
not  all  of  us  hold  that  outside  of  this  special,  authori 
tative,  written  revelation,  thus  promulgated,  collateral 
with  it,  consistent  with  it,  the  creation  of  the  same 
nature,  there  is  another  system  still,  a  mental  and 
moral  nature,  which  we  may  with  great  propriety  ex 
pose,  and  which  we  may  very  wisely  and  fitly  study 
and  enjoy  ?  Into  that  system  are  we  forbidden  to  pry, 
lest  we  become,  or  be  in  danger  of  becoming,  Atheists, 
Deists,  Pantheists,  or  Dilettanti,  or  Epicurean  ?  What 
is  there  to  hinder  us  from  walking  —  consistently  with 
our  faith  and  the  preaching  to  which  every  Sunday  we 
are  so  privileged  to  listen  —  what  is  there  to  hinder  us 
from  walking  on  the  shore  of  the  great  ocean  of  gen 
eral  truth,  and  gathering  up  here  and  there  one  of  its 
pebbles,  and  listening  here  and  there  to  the  music  of  one 
of  its  shells  ?  What  is  there  to  hinder  us  from  looking 
at  that  natural  revelation  that  shall  be  true  hereafter  ? 
What  is  there  in  all  this  to  prevent  us  from  trying  to 


1858-1859.]    ADDRESS  AT  ESSEX-STREET  CHURCH.    339 

open,  if  we  can  open,  the  clasped  volume  of  that  elder,  if 
it  may  be  that  obscurer  Scripture  ?  What  is  there  to 
hinder  us  from  studying  the  science  of  the  stars,  from 
going  back  with  the  geologist  to  the  birthday  of  a  real 
creation,  and  thus  tracing  the  line  through  the  vestiges  of 
a  real  and  a  true  creation  down  to  that  later  and  great 
period  of  time,  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together, 
exulting  over  this  rising  ball  ?  What  is  there  to  hinder 
us,  if  we  dare  to  do  it,  from  going  down  with  chemists 
and  physiologists  to  the  very  chambers  of  existence, 
and  trying  thence  to  trace,  if  we  may,  the  faint  lines 
by  which  matter  rose  to  vitality,  and  vitality  welled  up 
first  to  animals,  and  then  to  man  ?  What  is  there  to 
prevent  us  from  trying  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  God  in 
history,  from  reading  his  law  in  the  policies  of  States, 
in  the  principles  of  morals,  and  in  the  science  of  gov 
ernments, —  his  love  in  the  happiness  of  all  the  fami 
lies  of  the  human  race,  in  animals  and  in  man,  —  his 
retributions  in  the  judgments  that  are  '  abroad  in  all 
the  earth '  ?  Is  there  any  thing  to  hinder  us,  in  the 
faith  we  hold,  from  indulging  the  implanted  sense  of 
beauty  in  watching  the  last  glow  of  the  summer  eve, 
or  the  first  faint  flush  that  precedes  or  follows  the 
glorious  rising  of  the  morning  ?  Because  we  happen 
to  believe  that  a  written  revelation  is  authoritative 
upon  every  man,  and  that  there  is  contained  in  it,  dis 
tinctly  and  expressly,  the  expression  of  the  need  of 
reconciliation,  is  there  any  thing  in  all  this,  let  me  ask 
you,  my  friends,  which  should  hinder  us  from  trying 
to  explore  the  spirit  of  Plato,  from  admiring  the 
supremacy  of  mind  —  which  is  at  last  the  inspiration 
of  the  Almighty,  that  gives  you  understanding — in 
such  an  intellect  as  that  of  Newton,  —  from  looking  at 


340  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

the  camp-fires  as  they  glitter  on  the  plains  of  Troy,  — 
from  standing  on  the  battlements  of  heaven  with  Mil 
ton, —  from  standing  by  the  side  of  Macbeth,  sympa 
thizing  with,  or  at  least  appreciating  something  of,  the 
compunction  and  horror  that  followed  the  murder  of 
his  friend  and  host  and  king,  —  from  going  out  with 
old  Lear,  gray  hair  streaming,  and  throat  choking,  and 
heart  bursting  with  a  sense  of  filial  ingratitude,  —  from 
standing  by  the  side  of  Othello,  when  he  takes  the  life 
of  all  that  he  loves  best  in  this  world,  '  not  for  hate, 
but  all  for  honor,'  — from  admiring  and  saddening  to 
see  how  the  fond  and  deep  and  delicate  spirit  of  Hamlet 
becomes  oppressed  and  maddened  by  the  terrible  dis 
covery,  by  the  sense  of  duty  not  entirely  clear,  by  the 
conflict  of  emotions,  and  by  the  shrinking  dread  of 
that  life  to  come,  as  if  he  saw  a  hand  we  could  not 
see,  and  heard  a  voice  we  could  not  hear  ?  Certainly 
there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt  that  our  faith,  such 
as  you  profess  it  and  such  as  you  hold  it,  will  give 
direction  in  one  sense  to  all  our  studies.  There  can  be 
no  doubt,  in  one  sense  and  to  a  certain  extent,  it  bap 
tizes  and  holds  control  over  those  studies  ;  certainly, 
also,  it  may  be  admitted,  that  it  creates  tendencies  and 
tastes  that  may  a  little  less  reluctantly  lead  away  a 
man  from  the  contemplation  of  these  subjects  ;  but  is 
it  incompatible  with  them  ?  Do  you  think  that  Agassiz, 
that  Everett,  each  transcendent  in  his  own  department 
of  genius,  has  become  so,  because  he  held,  or  did  not 
hold,  a  specific  faith  ?  Because  you  believe  the  Old 
Testament,  as  well  as  the  New,  cannot  you  read  a 
classic  in  the  last  and  best  edition,  if  you  know  how  to 
read  it  ?  That  is  the  great  question  at  last,  and  I  ap 
prehend  that  the  incompatibility  of  which  we  some- 


1858-1859.]  LAST   LAW   CASE.  341 

times  hear,  has  no  foundation  in  the  things  that  are 
to  be  compared.  Did  poor,  rich  Covvper  think  them 
incompatible,  one  with  another,  when  for  so  many 
years  he  soothed  that  burning  brow  and  stayed  that 
fainting  reason,  and  turned  back  those  dark  billows 
that  threatened  to  overwhelm  him,  by  his  translation 
of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  ?  What  did  he  say  of  this 
incompatibility  himself  ?  '  Learning  has  borne  such 
fruit  on  all  her  branches,  piety  has  found  true  friends  in 
the  friends  of  science,  even  prayer  has  flowed  from 
lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews.'  I  hold,  therefore,  — 
and  I  shall  be  excused  by  the  friends  of  other  denomi 
nations,  now  and  here  present,  if  I  deliberately  repeat 
and  publicly  record, — that  we  have  attended  this 
church,  attached  ourselves  to  this  congregation,  and 
adhere  to  this  form  of  faith,  because  we  believe  it  to 
be  the  old  religion,  the  true  religion,  and  the  safest ; 
and  because,  also,  we  have  thought  that  there  was  no 
incompatibility  between  it  and  the  largest  and  most 
generous  mental  culture,  and  the  widest  philanthropy, 
that  are  necessary  in  order  to  complete  the  moral  and 
mental  development  and  accomplishment  of  man." 

In  a  strain  quite  unusual,  he  then,  in  drawing  to  a 
close,  commended  and  enforced  the  separation  of  party 
politics  from  the  ordinary  services  of  the  pulpit. 

The  next  day,  March  29,  he  made  his  last  argument 
before  the  full  bench,  in  the  case  of  Gage  vs.  Tudor. 
The  indisposition  with  which  he  had  been  troubled 
during  the  winter  —  weakness,  lassitude,  and  a  fre 
quently  returning  nausea,  the  causes  of  which  were 
obscure,  and  not  reached  by  medicines  —  had  gradually 
increased  and  caused  him  more  annoyance.  His 
friends  were  solicitous  ;  but  he  had  frequently  rallied 


342  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

from  serious  indisposition,  and  they  hoped  for  the 
best.  He  was  able  still  to  be  at  his  office  ;  once  more 
appeared  before  a  single  judge  in  chambers  upon  a 
question  of  alimony,  and  early  in  April,  though  really 
much  too  ill  for  the  exertion,  went,  at  the  earnest  so 
licitation  of  a  junior,  to  look  after  a  case  in  Salem.  It 
seemed  a  felicity  of  his  life  that  the  last  time  he  ap 
peared  in  court  should  be  at  that  bar  where,  thirty-five 
years  before,  he  had  commenced  the  practice  of  his 
profession,  — the  Bar  of  Essex  County.  It  was  a  case 
of  a  contested  will,  of  considerable  interest  in  itself, 
the  decision  turning  upon  the  state  of  health  of  the 
testator.  But  those  who  were  engaged  in  it  were 
struck  at  observing  the  turn  given  by  Mr.  Choate  to 
the  examination  of  one  of  the  medical  witnesses,  when, 
after  obtaining  all  the  information  necessary  to  the 
point  in  hand,  he  proceeded  with  a  series  of  questions 
bearing  evidently  upon  the  nature  of  the  disease  under 
,  which  he  supposed  himself  laboring.  No  notice  was 
taken  of  it  at  the  time  ;  but  he  subsequently  al 
luded  to  it  in  conversation  with  his  junior  counsel, 
suggesting  that  he  thought  he  had  a  disease  of  the 
heart  which  might  at  any  moment  prove  fatal.  As  the 
cause  proceeded  he  found  himself  unequal  to  the  labor 
of  the  trial,  and  withdrew  from  it  before  its  close,  re 
turning  home  on  Saturday  the  16th  of  April.  He 
never  went  to  his  office  again  ;  and  with  the  exception 
of  once  attending  church,  and  going  to  the  funeral  of  a 
daughter  of  a  much  revered  friend  (Hon.  Jeremiah 
Mason),  never  again  to  any  place  of  public  assembly. 
Books  became  more  than  ever  his  solace  and  delight. 
He  read  as  much  as  he  was  able,  but  more  frequently 
listened  (his  daughter  reading  aloud),  not  to  whole 


1858-1859.]  GOES  TO  DORCHESTER.  343 

volumes  or  continuous  discussions,  but  to  a  few  pages 
of  Bacon,  a  scene  in  Shakspeare,  a  few  lines  of  Homer, 
a  page  of  Wordsworth,  a  poem  by  Tennyson,  and 
oftener  still  to  religious  works ;  to  a  parable  or  miracle 
as  expounded  by  Dr.  Trench,  a  Hulsean  lecture  by  the 
same  author,  a  discourse  by  Jeremy  Taylor,  or  a  chap 
ter  in  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

His  attention  was  now  turned  to  a  voyage  to  Europe 
as  a  means  of  alleviating  his  disorder.  It  would  at 
any  rate  save  him  from  all  temptation  to  professional 
labor,  and  he  hoped  to  find  solace,  pleasure,  and  health, 
in  a  quiet  residence  of  a  month  or  two  in  the  south  of 
England;  his  thoughts  turning  especially  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight.  He  accordingly  secured  a  passage  in  the 
steamer  which  was  to  leave  Boston  about  the  middle  of 
May.  As  the  day  drew  near,  however,  he  felt  himself 
unequal  to  the  voyage,  and  accordingly  deferred  his 
departure.  The  delay  brought  no  material  relief,  and 
for  the  sake  of  greater  quiet,  and  the  purer  air  of  the 
country,  he  went  on  the  24th  of  May,  to  the  residence 
of  his  son-in-law,  Joseph  M.  Bell,  Esq.,  in  Dorchester. 
The  month  that  he  remained  in  this  delightful  suburban 
retreat  was  full  of  quiet  enjoyment.  His  appetite  good, 
he  suffered  from  nothing  but  weakness  and  occasional 
sudden  attacks  of  nausea.  Every  day  he  drove,  some 
times  into  town  to  get  books,  sometimes  into  the  coun 
try  over  the  secluded  and  picturesque  suburban  roads 
about  Boston,  but  oftener  to  the  sea,  or  to  some  point 
from  which  he  could  get  a  view  of  the  ocean.  At 
home,  not  seeming  to  be  very  ill,  he  enjoyed  every  thing 
with  a  rare  and  intense  delight.  His  love  of  Nature, 
which  had  rather  slumbered  during  the  toils  and  anxie 
ties  of  an  active  life,  revived  again  as  he  looked  upon 


344  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

her,  undisturbed  by  the  demands  of  a  jealous  profession. 
He  would  sit  for  hours  in  the  sun,  or  under  the  shade 
of  the  veranda,  or  a  tree  near  the  house,  watching  the 
distant  city,  or  the  smoke  curling  up  from  far-off  chim 
ney-tops,  or  the  operations  of  husbandry  going  on  all 
about  him,  or  listening  to  favorite  authors,  or  to  music 
which  he  loved.  Never  had  he  seemed  to  enjoy  every 
object  with  a  keener  relish.  "  What  can  a  person  do," 
he  once  said  after  looking  long  at  a  beautiful  landscape, 
"  life  is  not  long  enough  —  ."  He  still  made  some  at 
tempt  at  a  methodical  arrangement  of  occupations. 
The  early  hours  of  the  day  were  devoted  to  the  Bible  ; 
then  came  the  newspapers ;  then  whatever  books  he 
might  be  interested  in,  from  the  Works  of  Lord  Bacon 
to  the  last  Review,  several  different  works  usually  being 
read  in  the  course  of  the  morning.  During  this  time  he 
suffered  no  pain,  and  but  for  weakness  which  ren 
dered  it  a  labor  for  him  to  walk  the  length  of  the  yard, 
or  to  ascend  the  stairs,  he  seemed  as  much  like  himself 
as  ever.  He  saw  no  company,  not  being  able  to  endure 
the  fatigue  of  conversation,  or  dreading  interruption  by 
the  nausea.  But  with  his  family,  he  was  never  more 
affectionate  and  playful,  and  never  entered  with  fuller 
zest  into  their  occupations  and  enjoyments.  In  the 
mean  time  the  question  of  the  voyage  recurred,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  make  a  decision.  It  was  evident 
that  the  necessity  somewhat  weighed  upon  his  mind, 
and  that  it  was  almost  equally  difficult  for  him  to  de 
termine  to  stay  or  to  go.  His  disease  was  obscure;  his 
physicians  anticipated  no  injury  from '  the  voyage,  and 
hoped  for  some  relief.  Three  steamers  had  already 
sailed,  since  he  first  thought  of  going;  and  it  was  evi 
dent,  if  he  hoped  for  benefit  from  a  summer  in  Eng- 


1858-1859.]  LETTER  TO  MR.  EAMES.  345 

land,  that  lie  could  not  much  longer  delay  his  departure. 
His  reluctance  to  revoke  a  decision  once  fairly  made, 

—  especially  as  that  would  seem  to  be  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  an  illness  more  severe  and  immediately  threat 
ening  than  his  friends  or,  perhaps,  himself  had  allowed, 

—  the   prospect  of  rest,  the  hope  of  alleviation  and 
some  enjoyment,  and  possibly  of  recruiting  —  all  urged 
him  to  carry  out  his  plan.     At  the  same  time,  —  and 
this  perhaps  was  the  slight  consideration  which  turned 
the  scale,  —  he  knew  that  Halifax  was  less  than  two 
days'  sail  from  Boston,  and  that  if  the  voyage  proved 
disagreeable,  or  any  way  unfavorable,  it  was  easy  to 
cut  it  short  and  return.     Preparations  were  accordingly 
made  with  apparent  cheerfulness,  though  with  a  latent 
sadness  and  misgiving.     Books  were  chosen,  he  him 
self  making  out  the  following  list :  The  Bible ;  Daily 
Food  ;  Luther  on  the  Psalms  ;  Hengstenberg's  Psalms; 
Lewis's  Six  Days  of  Creation ;  Owen  on  Mark ;  The 
Iliad ;  The  Georgics  (Heyne's  Virgil)  ;    Bacon's  Ad 
vancement  of  Learning  ;  Shakspeare  ;    Milton  ;    Cole 
ridge  ;   Thomson  ;    Macaulay's   History  ;    Anastasius  ; 
The  Crescent  and  the  Cross.     A  few  farewells  were 
said,  and  a  few  farewell  notes  written,  breathing  of 
more,  as  it  now  seems,  than  a  temporary  separation. 
The  following,  to  the  Hon.  Charles  Eames  of  Washing 
ton,  and  another  to  Mr.  Abbott,  the  District  Attorney 
for  Essex,  were  written  the  day  before  he  sailed :  — 

"  Boston,  Tuesday,  June  28, 1859. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  borrow  my  son's  hand  to  grasp  yours 
and  Mrs.  Eames's  with  the  friendship  of  many  years,  and  on 
the  eve  of  a  departure  in  search  of  better  health.     God  bless 
you  till  I  return,  and  whether  I  return. 
"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"  R.  CHOATE,  JR.,  for  RUFUS  CHOATE. 
"  Hox.  CHARLES  EAMES." 


346  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

"  HON.  A.  A.  ABBOTT.  Boston,  Tuesday  afternoon,  June  28  [1859]. 

"Mr  DEAR  SIR,  — It  would  puzzle  a  Philadelphia  doctor 
to  say  whether  I  am  intrinsically  better  than  when  I  saw  you 
last,  but  I  am  quite  competent  to  pronounce  for  myself  that  I 
love  and  esteem  you,  and  Brother  Lord,  and  Brother  Ilun- 
tington,  quite  as  much  as  ever,  and  for  quite  as  much  reason. 
Pray  accept  for  yourself,  and  give  to  them  all,  my  love,  and 
be  sure  that  if  I  live  to  return,  it  will  be  with  unabated  regard 
for  all  of  you.  I  am  yours  most  affectionately, 

"  RUFUS  CHOATE,  by  R.  C.  JR." 

On  the  29th  of  June  he  went  on  board  The  Europa, 
Capt.  Leitch,  accompanied  by  the  members  of  his 
family  and  a  few  friends,  and  immediately  lay  down  on 
the  sofa  in  his  state-room.  The  scene  was  necessarily 
a  sad  one,  yet  he  was  quite  calm  and  seemed  better 
than  he  had  done,  retaining  his  natural  playfulness, 
speaking  jocosely  of  the  smallness  of  his  reception- 
room  in  which  so  many  were  assembled,  yet,  with  a 
peculiar  tenderness,  wishing  to  keep  them  all  near  him 
to  the  last. 

When  his  friends  left  him  as  the  hour  for  sailing 
drew  near,  mindful  of  the  responsibility  that  might 
seem  to  devolve  on  his  medical  attendants,  he  sent 
word  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Bell,  to  Dr.  Putnam,  his 
physician,  that  "  whatever  might  be  the  event,  he  was 
satisfied  that  every  thing  had  been  done  for  the  best." 
During  the  voyage  to  Halifax  he  lay  in  his  state-room 
still,  almost  like  marble,  and  with  no  restlessness  of 
body  or  mind,  conversing  but  little,  and  sutTering 
somewhat  from  sea-sickness.  On  Thursday  a  bad 
symptom  showed  itself,  in  the  swelling  of  his  hands. 
The  ship's  surgeon,  Dr.  Bry,  and  another  physician  on 
board,  Dr.  Tyler,  of  Brookfield,  were  consulted,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  hazardous  for  him 


1858-1859.]          LETTER  OF  GEO.  S.  HILLARD.  347 

to  proceed,  as,  in  their  opinion,  the  excitement  atten 
dant  upon  any  accident,  or  a  severe  storm,  might  cause 
death  at  once.  To  the  advice  tendered  by  them  and 
other  friends  on  board,  after  a  little  hesitation,  he  as 
sented,  apparently  glad  of  a  chance  of  relief,  he  was  so 
iv  ear y. 

The  letter  of  a  fellow-passenger,  Hon.  George  S. 
Hillard,  describes  the  circumstances  of  the  midnight 
landing  too  graphically  to  be  omitted  or  forgotten  in 
this  narrative.  "  From  the  moment  I  first  looked 
upon  him,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  that  we  sailed," 
says  Mr.  Hillard,  writing  from  England,  after  hearing 
of  his  death,  "  I  felt  assured  that  the  hand  of  death 
was  on  him.  His  berth  was  next  to  mine,  and  I  saw 
him  many  times  during  the  short  period  he  remained 
on  board.  He  was  always  lying  at  full  length  upon  the 
sofa,  and  perfectly  quiet,  though  not  reading  or  listen 
ing  to  reading.  This  in  itself,  in  one  with  so  active  a 
brain  and  restless  an  organization  as  his,  was  rather 
an  ominous  sign.  In  the  brief  moments  of  intercourse 
I  had  with  him,  the  feminine  sweetness  and  gentleness 
of  manner  which  always  characterized  him  was  very 
marked  and  very  touching.  The  determination  that 
he  should  stop  at  Halifax  was  come  to  before  dinner 
on  the  30th,  and  all  preparations  were  duly  made  to 
have  him  landed  so  soon  as  we  should  reach  the  port. 
This  was  not  accomplished  until  midnight ;  the  night 
was  very  dark,  and  all  that  we  could  see  of  the  town 
was  a  mass  of  indistinct  gloom,  dotted  here  and  there 
with  twinkling  lights.  We  took  on  board  a  large 
number  of  passengers,  and  you  can  well  imagine  the 
distracting  hurry  and  confusion  of  such  a  scene ;  the 
jostling  of  porters  and  luggage,  the  trampling  of  rest- 


348  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

less  feet,  and  all  the  while  the  escape-pipe  driving 
one  into  madness  with  its  ear-piercing  hiss.  Mr. 
Choate  walked  to  his  carriage,  leaning  heavily  on  my 
arm,  his  son's  attention  being  absorbed  by  the  care  of 
the  luggage.  He  moved  slowly  and  with  some  diffi 
culty,  taking  very  short  steps.  Two  carriages  had 
been  engaged,  by  some  misunderstanding,  but,  on  ac 
count  of  the  luggage,  it  was  found  convenient  to  retain 
them  both.  Mr.  Choate  was  put  into  one  of  them, 
alone,  without  any  incumbrance  of  trunk  or  bag.  and 
his  son  with  the  luggage  occupied  the  other.  When 
the  moment  for  driving  off  came,  I  could  not  bear  to 
see  him  carried  out  into  the  unknown  darkness  unac 
companied,  and  I  asked  Capt.  Leitch,  who  was  with  us, 
— and  whose  thoughtful  kindness  I  shall  never  forget, 
— how  long  a  time  I  might  have  to  drive  up  into  the 
town  ;  and  he  replied,  half  an  hour.  Hearing  that  the 
inn,  or  boarding-house,  to  which  we  were  directed,  was 
but  half  a  mile  off,  I  entered  the  coach,  sat  by  his  side, 
and  off  we  went  through  the  silent  and  gloomy  streets. 
The  half-mile  stretched  out  into  a  long  mile,  and  when 
we  had  reached  the  house,  and  I  had  deposited  Mr. 
Choate  on  a  sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  the  landlady  ap 
palled  me  by  saying  that  she  had  not  an  unoccupied 
bed  in  the  house,  and  could  not  accommodate  him. 
Her  words  fell  upon  my  heart  like  a  blow.  ...  In  the 
mean  time  the  inexorable  moments  were  slipping  away, 
and  I  was  compelled  to  leave  the  house.  I  heard  an 
airy  voice  calling  me  out  of  the  darkness,  and  1  could 
not  by  a  moment  enlarge  the  captain's  leave.  I  left 
Mr.  Choate  upon  the  sofa,  pale  and  exhausted,  but 
patient  and  uncomplaining,  his  luggage  in  the  street 
at  the  door,  and  his  son  at  that  midnight  hour  wander- 


1858-1859.]  LANDING  AT    HALIFAX.  349 

ing  about  the  streets  of  Halifax,  seeking  a  temporary 
shelter  for  a  dying  father,  with  what  result  I  have  not 
yet  heard.  What  with  the  sense  of  hurry,  the  irrita 
tion  of  this  mischance,  and  the  consciousness  that  I 
had  seen  my  eminent  friend  for  the  last  time,  I  drove 
back  to  the  boat  with  a  very  sore  heart.  There  are 
some  passages  in  our  lives  which  stamp  themselves 
upon  the  memory  with  peculiar  force  and  distinctness. 
Such  were  my  midnight  experiences  at  Halifax :  if  I 
should  live  to  be  a  hundred  years  old,  they  would  be 
as  fresh  before  the  mind's  eye  as  they  are  now." 

After  Mr.  Hillard  left,  a  room  was  secured  in  what 
proved  to  be  a  very  pleasant  boarding-house,  not  far 
distant  from  the  one  to  which  he  first  drove.  It  was  in 
the  third  story,  and  overlooked  the  harbor.  Mr. 
Choate  was  too  weak  to  ascend  the  stairs  that  night,1 
but  slept  well  in  a  lower  room,  and  the  next  morning 
was  able  to  mount  to  his  own.  He  immediately  took 
to  his  bed,  which  he  never  again  left.  At  the  sugges 
tion  of  the  American  Consul,  Dr.  Domville,  surgeon  on 
board  the  flag-ship  of  the  Admiral  then  in  command 
of  the  British  fleet  on  the  North  American  station, 
was  called  in,  and  through  his  prescriptions  the  most 
unfavorable  symptoms  were  soon  alleviated.  From 
day  to  day  he  remained  nearly  the  same,  rising  from 
his  bed  only  to  have  it  made,  talking  but  little,  watch 
ing —  with  the  old,  habitual  love  of  the  sea — as  he 
could  without  raising  his  head  from  the  pillow,  the  un 
loading  of  the  ships,  and  the  vessels  moving  in  the 
harbor.  "  If  a  schooner  or  sloop  goes  by,"  he  once 
said,  when  dropping  into  a  doze,  "  don't  disturb  me,  but 

1  He  was  so  feeble  that,  in  going  from  one  house  to  the  other,  he 
fell  forward  in  the  carriage  and  was  not  able  to  raise  himself. 


350  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

if  there  is  a  square-rigged  vessel,  wake  me  up."  By 
night  his  son  sat  by  his  side  till  he  was  sound  asleep, 
when,  by  his  special  request,  he  was  left  alone,  and 
usually  slept  well.  Only  one  night  did  he  seem  at  all 
unlike  himself,  when  being  oppressed  for  breath,  he 
seemed  to  imagine  that  people  were  crowding  round 
the  bed.  His  books  were  read  to  him:  Shakspeare, 
(The  Tempest),  Bacon's  Advancement  of  Learning, 
Macaulay's  History,  The  Six  Days  of  Creation,  Gray's 
Poem  on  Adversity  (he  selecting  it),  Luther  on  the 
Psalms,  and  more  variously  and  constantly  than  all, 
the  Bible.  He  talked  much  of  home,  making  little 
plans  about  the  best  way  of  getting  there  ;  talked  of 
sending  for  his  family  to  come  to  him,  but  thought  he 
should  recruit  so  soon  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  ; 
talked  about  Essex,  of  wanting  to  go  down  there  and 
having  a  boat  built  for  him,  discussing  her  size  and  rig. 
He  was  constantly  cheerful,  pleasant,  and  hopeful,  and 
on  the  12th  of  July,  according  to  Dr.  Domville,  ap 
peared  better  than  on  any  previous  day,  and  was  led 
to  indulge  the  hope  that  he  would  shortly  be  sufficiently 
restored  to  make  a  journey  homeward  or  elsewhere. 
It  was  otherwise  ordered.  The  great  shadow  was  fast 
sweeping  over  him. 

At  his  usual  hour  on  that  day,  about  five  o'clock, 
he  ate  as  hearty  a  dinner  as  usual,  bolstered  up  in  bed, 
and  conversing  at  the  same  time  with  his  natural 
vivacity.  Shortly  after  he  had  finished,  his  son,  who 
was  in  the  room,  was  startled  by  hearing  him  asking 
for  something  indistinctly  and  in  a  peculiar  tone ;  and 
going  to  him,  inquired  if  he  did  not  feel  well.  He 
said,  No — that  he  felt  very  faint.  These  were  the  last 
words  he  ever  uttered.  He  was  raised  and  supported 


1858-1859.]      PROCEEDINGS  OF  PUBLIC  BODIES.  351 

in  the  bed  ;  the  remedies  at  hand  were  freely  applied, 
and  the  physician  at  once  summoned.  But  the  end 
was  at  hand.  His  eyes  closed,  opened  again,  but  with 
no  apparent  recognition ;  a  slight  struggle  passed  over 
his  frame,  and  consciousness  was  extinguished  for  ever. 
A  heavy  breathing  alone  showed  that  life  remained. 
It  continued  till  twenty  minutes  before  two  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  July  13,  when  it  ceased,  and  all  was 
still.1 

Among  strangers  as  he  was,  his  illness  had  awakened 
a  general  sympathy,  and  prompted  the  kindest  atten 
tions.  "  All  classes,  from  the  Governor,  Lord  Mul- 
grave,  down,  proffered  during  his  illness  all  that  their 
several  resources  afforded;"  and  his  death,  so  sudden 
and  unexpected,  "  cast  a  gloom  over  the  entire  com 
munity."2  A  meeting  of  the  Bench  and  Bar  of  the 
city,  presided  over  by  the  venerable  Chief  Justice,  Sir 
Brenton  Haliburton,  was  immediately  held  in  testimony 
of  respect  and  sympathy.  The  sad  tidings  were  at 
once  spread  by  telegraph  over  the  United  States,  and 
everywhere  evoked  a  similar  response.  The  press,  of 
all  parties  and  persuasions,  and  in  every  part  of  the 
country,  was  unanimous  in  its  tribute  of  respect. 
Meetings  were  held  in  many  cities  and  towns  in  many 
States,  to  give  utterance  to  the  general  sorrow.  Among 
the  letters  which  came  from  various  parts  of  the  coun 
try,  the  following  was  received  from  President  Bu 
chanan  :  — 

1  An  autopsy,  made  after  the  remains  had  reached  Boston,  showed 
that  the  heart  and  lungs  were  entirely  healthy.     The  kidneys  were 
affected  with  what  is  known  to  physicians  as  "  Bright's  disease."     The 
brain  was  not  examined. 

2  Letter  from  Dr.  Domville. 


352  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

"  WASHINGTON,  18th  July,  1859. 

"My  DEAR  SIR, — I  deeply  regret  the  death  of  Mr.  Choate. 
I  consider  his"  loss,  at  the  present  time,  to  be  a  great  public 
misfortune.  He  was  an  unselfish  patriot,  —  devoted  to  the 
Constitution  and  the  Union  ;  and  the  moral  influence  of  his 
precept  and  his  example  would  have  contributed  much  to  re 
store  the  ancient  peace  and  harmony  among  the  different  mem 
bers  of  the  Confederacy.  In  him  *  the  elements  were  so 
combined,'  that  all  his  acquaintances  became  his  devoted 
friends.  So  far  as  I  know,  even  party  malevolence  spared 
him.  He  was  pure  and  incorruptible  ;  and  in  all  our  inter 
course  I  have  never  known  him  to  utter  or  insinuate  a  senti 
ment  respecting  public  affairs  which  was  not  of  a  high  tone 
and  elevated  character.  Yours  very  respectfully, 

"JAMES  BUCHANAN." 

But  nowhere  was  there  a  deeper  or  more  prevailing 
feeling  than  among  the  members  of  the  Essex  Bar,  with 
whom  he  began  and  with  whom  he  closed  his  labors, 
and  in  Boston  where  his  greatest  legal  triumphs  were 
achieved.  Many  clergymen  noticed  the  loss  in  their 
public  discourses.  The  Mercantile  Library  Association ; 
the  Young  Men's  Democratic  Club ;  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society ;  the  Municipal  Corporation ;  the 
Courts  of  the  State,  and  of  the  United  States  ;  the  Fac 
ulty  and  Alumni  of  Dartmouth  College,  where  he  was 
graduated  just  forty  years  before ;  the  Bar  of  New  York, 
and  many  other  public  bodies,  met  to  express  their  sense 
of  the  loss.  The  Suffolk  Bar  at  once  appointed  a  com 
mittee  to  draw  up  and  present  a  series  of  resolutions  ; 
and  seldom  has  there  been  expression  of  sincerer  or 
deeper  grief  than  at  the  meeting  which  followed.  His 
brethren  of  the  Bar  spoke  with  suffused  eye  and  tremu 
lous  lip.  Of  the  many  addresses  and  communications, 
difficult  as  it  is  to  discriminate  between  them  on  the 
score  of  fitness  and  general  excellence,  a  few  may  be 
selected  as  indicative  of  the  spirit  of  all. 


1858-1859.]     ADDRESS  OF  HON.  C.  G.  LORING.  353 

FROM  THE  ADDRESS  OF  HON.  CHARLES  G.  LORING,  AT  A  MEET 
ING  OF  THE  SUFFOLK  BAR. 

"  MR.  CHAIRMAN,  —  I  am  instructed  by  the  commit 
tee  appointed  at  a  meeting  of  which  this  is  an  adjourn 
ment,  to  present  for  its  consideration  a  series  of  reso 
lutions,  the  adoption  of  which  they  recommend  as  com 
memorative  of  the  sense  entertained  by  the  members  of 
the  Suffolk  Bar,  of  the  afflicting  event  which  has  recently 
befallen  them.  And  in  discharging  that  duty,  I  crave 
indulgence,  as  one  of  the  eldest  among  them,  to  say  a 
few  words  upon  the  sad  theme  which  fills  our  hearts, 
though  the  state  of  my  health  would  forbid  any  elab 
orate  attempt  at  adequate  description  of  the  marvellous 
combination  of  genius,  learning,  and  ability,  charac 
teristic  of  our  departed  brother,  or  any  fitting  eulogium 
upon  his  life  and  character. 

"  Of  his  gifts  and  attainments  as  a  lawyer  and  as  an 
orator,  not  only  this  bar,  but  the  national  forum  and 
the  legislative  halls  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  of  the 
United  States,  have  been  witnesses  ;  while  his  scholas 
tic  efforts,  on  many  varying  occasions,  have  been  heard 
and  read  by  admiring  multitudes,  whose  remembrance 
of  them  is  still  fresh  and  full.  And  if —  not  relying 
only  upon  our  own  affectionate  and  perhaps  partial 
judgments  —  we  may  trust  the  general  expression  of 
the  press  throughout  the  land,  it  is  no  unbecoming  ex 
aggeration  to  say  that  in  the  death  of  our  friend  the 
nation  has  lost  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  distinguished 
lawyers  and  orators,  and  one  of  the  most  refined  and 
accomplished  scholars,  that  have  adorned  its  forensic, 
legislative,  or  literary  annals. 

"  Having  been  for  more  than  twenty  years  after  Mr. 

23 


354  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

Choate  came  to  this  bar,  his  antagonist  in  forensic 
struggles,  at  the  least,  I  believe,  as  frequently  as  any 
other  member  of  it,  I  may  well  be  competent  to  bear 
witness  to  his  peculiar  abilities,  resources,  and  manners 
in  professional  service.  And  having,  in  the  varied  ex 
periences  of  nearly  forty  years,  not  infrequently  en 
countered  some  of  the  giants  of  the  law,  whose  lives 
and  memories  have  contributed  to  render  this  bar  illus 
trious  throughout  the  land, —  among  whom  I  may  in 
clude  the  honored  names  of  Prescott,  Mason,  Hubbard, 
Webster,  and  Dexter,  and  others  among  the  dead,  and 
those  of  others  yet  with  us,  to  share  in  the  sorrows  of 
this  hour,  —  I  do  no  injustice  to  the  living  or  the  dead 
in  saying,  that  for  the  peculiar  powers  desirable  for  a 
lawyer  and  advocate,  for  combination  of  accurate  mem 
ory,  logical  acumen,  vivid  imagination,  profound  learn 
ing  in  the  law,  exuberance  of  literary  knowledge  and 
command  of  language,  united  with  strategic  skill,  I 
should  place  him  at  the  head  of  all  whom  I  have  ever 
seen  in  the  management  of  a  cause  at  the  bar. 

"  No  one  who  has  not  been  frequently  his  antagonist 
in  intricate  and  balanced  cases,  can  have  adequate 
conception  of  his  wonderful  powers  and  resources;  and 
especially  in  desperate  emergencies,  when  his  seemingly 
assured  defeat  has  terminated  in  victory. 

"  His  remembrance  of  every  fact,  suggestion,  or  im 
plication  involved  in  the  testimony,  of  even  the  remotest 
admission  by  his  adversary,  —  his  ready  knowledge 
and  application  of  every  principle  of  law  called  for  at 
the'  moment,  —  his  long  forecast  and  ever  watchful  at 
tention  to  every  new  phase  of  the  case,  however  slight, 
—  his  incredible  power  of  clear  and  brilliant  illustra 
tion, — his  unexampled  exuberance  of  rich  and  glowing 


1858-1859.]        ADDRESS  OF  HON.  C.  G.  LORING.  355 

language,  —  his  wonderfully  methodic  arrangement, 
where  method  would  best  serve  him,  and  no  less  won 
derful  power  of  dislocation  and  confusion  of  forces, 
when  method  would  not  serve  him,  —  his  incredible 
ingenuity  in  retreating  when  seemingly  annihilated, 
and  the  suddenness  and  impetuosity  with  which,  chang 
ing  front,  he  returned  to  the  charge,  or  rallied  in  an 
other  and  unexpected  direction, —  and  the  brilliant 
fancy,  the  peerless  beauty,  and  fascinating  glow  of  lan 
guage  and  sentiment,  with  which,  when  law  and  facts 
and  argument  were  all  against  him,  he  could  raise  his 
audience  above  them  all  as  things  of  earth,  while  in 
sensibly  persuading  it  that  the  decision  should  rest 
upon  considerations  to  be  found  in  higher  regions,  and 
that  a  verdict  in  his  favor  was  demanded  by  some 
transcendent  equity  independent  of  them  all,  at  times 
surpassed  all  previous  conceptions  of  human  ability. 

"  In  manner  and  deportment  at  the  bar,  as  every 
where,  our  deceased  brother  was  not  only  unexception 
able,  but  an  eminent  example  of  what  a  lawyer  should 
be.  Always  dignified  and  graceful  in  his  bearing  to 
wards  his  professional  brethren,  and  deferential  to  the 
court,  and  always  self-possessed  in  the  stormiest  seas, 
—  his  intensity  of  language  being,  as  I  ever  thought, 
the  effect  of  a  strongly  excited  imagination,  combined 
with  peculiar  nervous  energy,  rather  than  arising  from 
otherwise  deep  emotions  or  excited  feelings — he  rarely 
permitted  himself  to  indulge  in  personalities,  and  never 
in  those  of  an  offensive  and  degrading  nature,  the  in 
dulgence  of  which  is  ever  to  be  deplored,  as  alike  dis 
creditable  to  the  individual  and  the  profession,  of  which, 
for  the  time  being,  every  advocate  should  feel  himself 
to  be  the  public  representative. 


356  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

"  Nor  can  I  leave  this  theme  without  thus  publicly 
reaffirming,  what  it  has  been  my  constant  pleasure  to 
say  of  him  throughout  all  our  long  years  of  exasperat 
ing  conflicts,  that  he  was  the  best  tempered  and  most 
amiable  man  in  controversy  whom  I  ever  encountered ; 
nor  will  I  hesitate  to  add  that  his  example  has  at  times 
winged  the  arrow  of  self-reproach  that  it  was  not  better 
followed. 

"Of  Mr.  Choate's  power  and  attainments  as  a  scholar, 
so  conspicuous  and  extensive,  I  forbear  to  speak  further 
than  to  say  that  the  bar  of  the  whole  country  owes  to 
him  the  debt  of  gratitude  for  exhibiting  an  example  so 
illustrious  of  the  strength,  dignity,  and  beauty  which 
forensic  discussion  may  draw  from  the  fields  of  litera 
ture  and  art,  with  whose  treasures  he  often  adorned 
his  arguments  in  rich  exuberance,  though  never  with 
the  slightest  savor  of  pedantry  or  affectation. 

"  We  have  fought  many  hardly  contested  forensic 
fields,  but  ever  met,  as  I  trust  and  believe,  on  neutral 
ground,  in  mutual,  cordial  good-will  —  and  many  are 
the  delightful  hours  I  have  passed  in  his  society  —  in 
the  enjoyment  of  his  genial  nature,  fascinating  exuber 
ance  of  fancy  and  learning,  and  exquisite  wit ;  but  the 
silver  cord  is  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and 
the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern  ;  and  it  is  only  left  for 
me  to  lay  a  worthless,  fading  chaplet  on  his  grave." 

"  Hon.  George  Lunt,  chairman  of  the  sub-committee 
of  the  Suffolk  Bar,  presented  the  following  resolutions, 
prefacing  them  with  a  few  remarks,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  said,  — 

"  Of  those  who  have  cultivated  deliberative  eloquence  as  an 
art,  no  doubt  there  have  been  others  his  equals,  possibly  in 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  HON.  GEO.  LUNT.  357 

some  respects  his  superiors.  And  though  his  style  of  oratory, 
in  its  composition,  could  scarcely  be  compared  with  any  thing 
except  the  grand  and  lofty  periods  of  Milton  in  his  works  of 
prose,  yet  it  had  many  of  the  characteristics  of  Burke,  whom 
he  admired,  and  of  another  great  man  of  our  own  country  — 
Fisher  Ames  — whom  no  successor  has  surpassed.  But  at  the 
bar,  when  and  where  was  there  ever  one  like  him  in  the  union 
of  all  things  which  constituted  his  power,  and  gave  him  that 
sort  of  magnetic  influence,  felt  by  all  who  approached  him, 
and  which  courts,  juries,  and  audiences  so  often  found  irresisti 
ble  ?  It  was  in  this,  I  feel  disposed  to  say,  that  Mr.  Choate 
was  the  most  peculiar,  —  that  his  soul  imbued  his  thoughts 
and  gave  them  life  and  action,  —  and  to  him  more  than  to  any 
man,  and  now  with  sad  significance,  are  applicable  those  de 
scriptive  lines  of  Dryden  :  — 

'  A  fiery  soul  that,  working  out  its  way, 
Fretted  the  pigmy  body  to  decay, 
And  o'er-informed  the  tenement  of  clay.' 

For  his  soul  became  incorporated,  as  he  spoke  with  his  living 
presence,  and  he  had  enough  of  the  spiritual  element  for  a 
whole  generation  of  ordinary  members  of  the  bar. 
"  With  your  permission  I  will  read  the 

RESOLUTIONS. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  members  of  this  Bar,  submissively  and 
solemnly  acknowledging  the  dispensation  of  Divine  Provi 
dence,  in  removing  by  death  their  late  eminent  leader  and 
beloved  associate,  the  Honorable  Rufus  Choate,  —  recognize 
that  mournful  event  with  emotions  of  the  profoundest  sorrow, 
and  sincerely  feel  that  no  language  could  adequately  express 
their  exalted  estimation  of  his  character  as  a  lawyer,  a  citizen, 
and  a  man,  or  their  affectionate  respect  and  veneration  for  his 
memory. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  professional  character  of  our  departed 
brother  exhibited  the  rarest  and  most  admirable  qualities,  sel 
dom  if  ever  before  so  singularly  united  in  the  same  person ; 
that  while  unrivalled  in  all  the  learning  of  the  law,  entirely 
familiar  with  the  principles,  the  doctrines,  and  the  philosophy 
of  the  science  to  which  his  life  was  devoted,  and  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  minutest  requirements  of  its  practice,  the 
manly  strength  and  capacity  of  his  intellect  were  combined 


358  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

with  a  grace,  an  elegance,  and  a  brilliancy  of  conception  and 
expression  totally  unexampled  ;  that  while  he  brought  to  the 
pursuits  of  his  profession  the  most  extraordinary  quickness 
and  clearness  of  apprehension,  and  the  best  faculties  of  sound 
and  solid  reasoning,  these  incomparable  powers  were  bright 
ened  and  enriched  by  a  facility  and  fertility  of  illustration  no 
less  remarkable,  drawn  from  nature,  art,  literature,  the  re 
sources  of  his  own  imagination,  and  the  Scriptures  which  he 
so  loved  and  reverenced ;  and  by  a  spontaneous  flow  of  im 
passioned  and  matchless  eloquence,  which  animated,  instructed, 
and  inspired  reason  —  captivating  it,  yet  subject  to  it — using 
the  noblest  language  in  which  thought  could  clothe  itself,  va 
ried  often,  and  enlivened  by  a  quaint  and  original  felicity  of 
expression,  which  cheered  the  gravest  proceedings,  while  it 
illuminated  his  meaning  —  showing  him,  confessedly,  among 
all  men,  the  very  genius  of  the  Bar ;  yet  with  all  its  amplest 
treasuries  of  knowledge  at  his  command,  by  the  exercise  of  a 
power  of  application,  not  usually  attributed  to  genius,  and  by 
habits  of  careful  and  laborious  study,  in  which  no  man  sur 
passed  and  few  equalled  him  —  manifesting  a  real  and  most 
earnest  sympathy  in  every  case  entrusted  to  him,  to  the 
smallest  indifferently  with  the  largest,  by  a  sort  of  resolute  in 
stinct  of  nature,  but  which  always  co-operated  with  principle, 
and  was  sustained  by  it  —  thus,  always  doing  justice  to  his 
client,  himself,  and  the  occasion,  and  never  found  even  par 
tially  unprepared — but  before  a  single  judge,  with  no  au 
dience,  upon  a  question  claiming  little  public  interest,  as 
learned,  as  eloquent,  as  choice,  copious,  and  accurate  in  lan 
guage,  and  equally  as  '  fervent  in  business,'  as  if  surrounded 
by  an  admiring  crowd,  so  often  kindled  by  the  thrilling  utter 
ance  of  his  lips  —  for  he  was  still  there,  doing  his  duty  —  his 
vigor,  his  fire,  his  zeal  ever  the  same  —  so  that  it  was  the 
spirit  of  the  man  within  which  led  him  on,  and  made  him  true 
to  all  time  and  place,  and  thus  able  to  turn  time,  occasion, 
circumstance,  all  things,  to  the  immediate  and  overpowering 
purpose  which  impelled  him,  as  few  men  are  impelled,  to  do 
witli  his  might  whatever  his  hands  found  to  do. 

"Resolved,  That  while  looking  to  him  constantly  as  one  of 
the  great  lights  of  the  profession  —  honoring  him  without 
reservation  as  its  unquestioned  leader,  with  recollections  full 
of  that  enchanting  eloquence  which  always  fascinated  by  a 
freshness,  a  brilliancy,  an  ardor,  and  an  originality  peculiarly  its 
own,  and  of  a  learning  equally  sound,  extensive,  and  ready  — 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  HON.  GEO.  LUNT.  359 

always  gathering  new  stores  by  the  unceasing  study  and  re 
flection  of  every  day  —  our  long  association  with  him,  in  the 
kindest,  most  agreeable,  and  most  friendly  relations,  as  mem 
bers  of  the  Bar,  and  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life,  recalls 
the  impression  of  his  personal  characteristics  with  vivid  dis 
tinctness  and  poignancy  at  this  moment  of  severe  and  unaf 
fected  grief;  and  revives  him  in  our  memory  as,  of  all  men 
whom  we  have  known,  one  of  the  most  truly  amiable  and  esti 
mable  ;  and  with  hearts  overflowing  with  the  sense  of  that 
amenity  and  unforced  courtesy  —  now  buried  with  him  for 
ever  —  so  graceful  and  uniform,  since  it  was  a  part  of  his  very 
nature  —  of  that  transparent  tenderness  of  feeling  peculiarly 
distinguishing  him  and  an  unassuming  kindness  of  demeanor, 
rendered  to  the  lowest  equally  with  the  highest  in  his  com 
pany,  —  showing  him  humane  and  true  to  humanity  in  the 
broadest  acceptation  of  the  word,  as  he  was  profoundly  inter 
ested  in  all  which  might  concern  a  man  —  and  though  without 
any  of  the  familiarity  which  lessens,  yet  equally  at  home  with 
the  humblest  and  most  cultivated,  and  in  the  poorest  as  the 
grandest  place ;  and  everywhere  and  in  all  companies  free 
from  the  slightest  indelicacy  of  expression,  and  apparently 
unconscious  of  it  by  a  certain  innate  nicety  of  mind  —  and 
gratefully  remembering  him  as  a  true  gentleman,  because  gen 
tle  both  by  nature  and  culture,  and  as  the  highest  ornament 
of  his  profession,  and  an  honor  to  his  race,  we  cherish  his 
memory  with  an  affection,  admiration,  and  respect,  scarcely  to 
be  disturbed  in  this  generation  by  another  example  of  quali 
ties  and  gifts  so  noble  and  extraordinary,  as  to  make  him  in 
many  singular  respects  — in  genius,  learning,  and  eloquence  — 
in  perfection  of  the  reasoning  powers,  and  taste,  fancy,  and 
imaginative  faculties  not  often  in  concord  with  them  ;  and  in 
fidelity  to  his  client  and  his  cause  never  excelled  — justly  en 
titled  to  the  reputation,  likely  to  become  still  more  extensive, 
of  the  marvel  of  his  time. 

**  Resolved,  That,  while  the  decease  of  this  great  and  excel 
lent  man  is  universally  regarded  by  this  community  as  an  ir 
reparable  calamity,  to  be  only  deepened  by  experience,  as  we 
become  more  and  more  sensible  of  a  vacant  place  so  difficult 
worthily  to  fill,  —  the  loss  to  the  Commonwealth  and  the 
nation  cannot  be  too  keenly  deplored  ;  that  as  a  citizen  of  the 
State  and  of  the  United  Republic,  his  whole  life  evinced  that 
wise  interest  in  and  generous  devotion  to  public  affairs,  be 
coming  his  station,  profession,  character,  and  understanding,  — 


360  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

discussing  them  before  the  people  on  suitable  occasions,  with  a 
spirit  and  a  power  of  thought  and  language  seldom  equalled 
—  thus  affording  the  strongest  and  surest  pledge  of  an  honest 
and  unflinching  patriotism,  which  won  for  him,  even  from 
those  hostile  to  his  opinions,  a  confidence  in  his  political  in 
tegrity  seldom  felt  or  granted  to  a  statesman  by  those  opposed 
to  him  ;  and  that  while  the  public  services  rendered  by  him 
in  the  past  entitle  his  memory  to  our  veneration,  we  may  well 
anticipate  future  exigencies  of  the  country,  when  to  iniss  the 
invaluable  aid  of  such  an  illustrious  counsellor,  guide,  and  ex 
ample,  will  be  only  to  renew  our  grief,  as  we  look  in  vain  for 
that  steady  and  shining  light  now  so  prematurely  and  sadly 
extinguished. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  members  of  this  Bar,  sorrowfully  and 
respectfully,  beg  leave  to  tender  to  the  bereaved  family  of 
their  lamented  friend  the  most  heartfelt  sentiments  of  condo 
lence  and  sympathy ;  and  feeling  that  the  occasion  rarely 
arises  in  which  private  grief  is  so  cleeply  and  justly  shared  by 
all,  and  peculiarly  by  their  own  profession,  they  ask  permission 
to  unite  with  the  family  of  their  departed  brother,  in  attending 
his  remains  to  their  last  earthly  resting-place. 

"Resolved,  That  a  eulogy  be  pronounced  at  such  convenient 
time  as  may  be  hereafter  determined  upon,  and  that  Hon. 
Caleb  Gushing  be  invited  to  deliver  the  same  before  the  Bar. 

"  Resolved,  That  these  resolutions  be  presented  to  the  Su 
preme  Judicial  Court  of  this  Commonwealth,  with  a  request 
that  they  be  entered  upon  its  records. 


REMARKS  OF  RICHARD  H.  DANA,  JR.,  ESQ. 

"  MR.  CHAIRMAN,  —  By  your  courtesy,  and  the  cour 
tesy  of  this  bar,  which  never  fails,  I  occupy  an  earlier 
moment  than  I  should  otherwise  be  entitled  to  ;  for 
the  reason,  that  in  a  few  hours  I  shall  be  called  upon 
to  take  a  long  leave  of  the  bar  and  of  my  home.  I 
cannot  do  that,  Sir,  —  I  cannot  do  that,  without  rising 
to  say  one  word  of  what  I  know  and  feel  upon  this  sad 
loss. 

"  The  pressure  which  has  been  upon  me  in  the  last 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  R.  H.  DANA,  JR.  361 

few  days  of  my  remaining  here,  has  prevented  my 
making  that  kind  of  preparation  which  the  example  of 
him  whom  we  commemorate  requires  of  every  man 
about  to  address  a  fit  audience  upon  a  great  subject. 
I  can  only  speak  right  on  what  I  do  feel  and  know. 

" ;  The  wine  of  life  is  drawn.'  The  '  golden  bowl  is 
broken.'  The  age  of  miracles  has  passed.  The  day 
of  inspiration  is  over.  The  Great  Conqueror,  unseen 
and  irresistible,  has  broken  into  our  temple  and  has 
carried  off  the  vessels  of  gold,  the  vessels  of  silver, 
the  precious  stones,  the  jewels,  and  the  ivory  ;  and, 
like  the  priests  of  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,"  after  the 
invasion  from  Babylon,  we  must  content  ourselves, 
as  we  can,  with  vessels  of  wood  and  of  stone  and  of 
iron. 

"  With  such  broken  phrases  as  these,  Mr.  Chairman, 
perhaps  not  altogether  just  to  the  living,  we  endeavor 
to  express  the  emotions  natural  to  this  hour  of  our 
bereavement.  Talent,  industry,  eloquence,  and  learn 
ing  there  are  still,  and  always  will  be,  at  the  Bar  of 
Boston.  But  if  I  say  that  the  age  of  miracles  has 
passed,  that  the  day  of  inspiration  is  over,  —  if  I  can 
not  realize  that  in  this  place  where  we  now  are,  the 
cloth  of  gold  was  spread,  and  a  banquet  set  fit  for  the 
gods,  —  I  know,  Sir,  you  will  excuse  it.  Any  one  who 
has  lived  with  him  and  now  survives  him  will  excuse 
it,  —  any  one  who,  like  the  youth  in  Wordsworth's 
ode, 

'  by  the  vision  splendid, 
Is  on  his  way  attended, 
At  length  .  .  .  perceives  it  die  away, 
And  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day/ 

"  Sir,  I  speak  for  myself,  —  I  have  no  right  to  speak 
for  others,  —  but  I  can  truly  say,  without  any  exag- 


362  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

geration,  taking  for  the  moment  a  simile  from  that 
element  which  he  loved  as  much  as  I  love  it,  though  it 
rose  against  his  life  at  last,  —  that  in  his  presence  I 
felt  like  the  master  of  a  small  coasting  vessel,  that 
hugs  the  shore,  that  has  run  up  under  the  lee  to  speak 
a  great  homeward  bound  Iiidiaman,  freighted  with 
silks  and  precious  stones,  spices  and  costly  fabrics, 
with  sky-sails  and  studding-sails  spread  to  the  breeze, 
with  the  nation's  flag  at  her  mast-head,  navigated  by 
the  mysterious  science  of  the  fixed  stars,  and  not  un 
prepared  with  weapons  of  defence,  her  decks  peopled 
with  men  in  strange  costumes,  speaking  of  strange 
climes  and  distant  lands. 

"  All  loved  him,  especially  the  young.  He  never 
asserted  himself,  or  claimed  precedence,  to  the  injury 
of  any  man's  feelings.  Who  ever  knew  him  to  lose 
temper  ?  Who  ever  heard  from  him  an  unkind  word  ? 
And  this  is  all  the  more  strange  from  the  fact  of  his 
great  sensitiveness  of  temperament. 

"  His  splendid  talents  as  an  orator  need  no  com 
mendation  here.  The  world  knows  so  much.  The 
world  knows  perfectly  well  that  juries  after  juries 
have  returned  their  verdicts  for  Mr.  Choate's  clients, 
and  the  Court  has  entered  them  upon  the  issues. 
The  world  knows  how  he  electrified  vast  audiences 
in  his  more  popular  addresses ;  but,  Sir,  the  world 
has  not  known,  though  it  knows  better  now  than 
it  did,  —  and  the  testimony  of  those  better  competent 
than  I  am  will  teach  it,  —  that  his  power  here  rested 
not  merely  nor  chiefly  upon  his  eloquence,  but  rested 
principally  upon  his  philosophic  and  dialectic  power. 
He  was  the  greatest  master  of  logic  we  had  amongst 
us.  No  man  detected  a  fallacy  so  quickly,  or  exposed 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  R.  H.  DANA,  JR.  363 

it  so  felicitously  as  he,  whether  in  scientific  terms  to 
the  bench,  or  popularly  to  the  jury ;  and  who  could 
play  with  a  fallacy  as  he  could  ?  Ask  those  venerated 
men  who  compose  our  highest  tribunal,  with  whom  all 
mere  rhetoric  is  worse  than  wasted  when  their  minds 
are  bent  to  the  single  purpose  of  arriving  at  the  true 
results  of  their  science,  —  ask  them  wherein  lay  the 
greatest  power  of  Rufus  Choate,  and  they  will  tell  you 
it  lay  in  his  philosophy,  his  logic,  and  his  learning. 

"  He  was,  Sir,  in  two  words,  a  unique  creation.  He 
was  a  strange  product  of  New  England.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  John  Adams,  Samuel  Dexter,  Daniel  Web 
ster,  and  Jeremiah  Mason  seem  to  be  the  natural 
products  of  the  soil ;  but  to  me  this  great  man  always 
seemed  as  not  having  an  origin  here  in  New  England, 
but  as  if,  by  the  side  of  our  wooden  buildings,  or  by 
the  side  of  our  time-enduring  granite,  there  had  risen, 
like  an  exhalation,  some  Oriental  structure,  with  the 
domes  and  glittering  minarets  of  the  Eastern  world. 
Yet  this  beautiful  fabric,  so  aerial,  was  founded  upon 
a  rock.  We  know  he  digged  his  foundation  deep,  and 
laid  it  strong  and  sure. 

"  I  wished  to  say  a  word  as  to  his  wit,  but  time 
would  fail  me  to  speak  of  every  thing.  Yet,  without 
reference  to  that,  all  I  may  say  would  be  too  incom 
plete.  His  wit  did  not  raise  an  uproarious  laugh,  but 
created  an  inward  and  homefelt  delight,  and  took  up 
its  abode  in  your  memory.  The  casual  word,  the  un 
expected  answer  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  the  re 
mark  whispered  over  the  back  of  his  chair  while  the 
docket  was  calling,  you  repeated  to  the  next  man  you 
met,  and  he  to  the  next,  and  in  a  few  days  it  became 
the  anecdote  of  the  town.  When  as  lawyers  we  met 


364  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

together,  in  tedious  hours,  and  sought  to  entertain  our 
selves,  we  found  we  did  better  with  anecdotes  of  Mr. 
Choate  than  on  our  own  original  resources. 

"  Besides  his  eloquence,  his  logical  power,  and  his  wit, 
he  possessed  deep  and  varied  learning.  His  learning 
was  accurate,  too.  He  could  put  his  hand  on  any  Massa 
chusetts  case  as  quick  as  the  judge  who  decided  it. 

"  But  if  I  were  asked  to  name  that  which  I  regard 
as  his  characteristic,  —  that  in  which  he  differed  from 
other  learned,  logical,  and  eloquent  men  of  great  emi 
nence,  —  I  should  say  it  was  his  aesthetic  nature. 

"  Even  under  the  excitement  of  this  moment,  I 
should  not  compare  his  mind  in  the  point  of  mere 
force  of  understanding  (and,  indeed,  he  would  not 
have  tolerated  such  a  comparison)  with  Daniel  Web 
ster  ;  and  yet  I  think  we  have  a  right  to  say  that,  in 
his  aesthetic  nature,  he  possessed  something  to  which 
the  minds  of  Franklin,  Adams,  Dexter,  Mason,  and 
Webster,  were  strangers. 

"  But  I  ask  pardon  of  the  bar.  I  am  not  desirous 
of  making  these  comparisons. 

"  I  need  not  say,  Sir,  Rufus  Choate  was  a  great 
lawyer,  a  great  jurist,  a  great  publicist,  but  more  than 
all  that  —  and  I  speak  of  that  which  I  know  —  his 
nature  partook  strongly  of  the  poetic  element.  It  was 
not  something  which  he  could  put  on  or  off',  but  it  was 
born  with  him  —  I  will  not  say  died  with  him,  but  is 
translated  with  him. 

"  Shakspeare  was  his  great  author.  I  would  have 
defied  even  the  Shakspeare  scholar  to  refer  to  any 
passage  of  Shakspeare  that  Mr.  Choate  would  not  have 
recognized  instantly.  Next  to  Shakspeare,  I  think  I 
have  a  right  to  say  he  thought  that  he  owed  more  to 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  R.  H.  DANA,  JR.  365 

Wordsworth  than  to  any  other  poet.  He  studied  him 
before  it  was  the  fashion,  and  before  his  high  position 
had  been  vindicated. 

"  Then  he  was,  of  course,  a  great  student  of  Milton, 
and  after  that,  I  think  that  those  poets  who  gained  the 
affections  of  his  youth,  and  wrote  when  he  was  young, 

—  Byron,  Scott,  Coleridge,  Southey,  —  had  his  affec 
tions  chiefly ;  though,  of  course,  he  read  and  valued 
and  studied  Spenser  and  Dryden,  and,  as  a  satirist 
and  a  maker  of  epigrams,  Pope.     This  love  of  poetry 
with  him  was  genuine  and  true.     He  read  and  studied 
always,  not  with  a  view  to  make  ornaments  for  his 
speeches,  but  because  his  nature  drew  him  to  it.     We 
all  know  he  was  a  fine  Greek  and  Latin  scholar  ;  was 
accurate  ;  he  never  made  a  false  quantity.     Who  ever 
detected  him  in  a  misquotation  ?     He  once  told  me  he 
never  allowed  a  day  to  go  by  that  he  did  not  write  out 
a  translation  from  some  Greek  or  Latin  author.     This 
was  one  of  the  means  by  which  he  gained  his  affluence 
of  language.     Of  Cicero  he  was  a  frequent  student, 
particularly  of  his  ethical  and  philosophical  writings. 
But  Greek  was  his  favorite  tongue. 

"  One  word  more,  Sir.  It  is  not  so  generally  known, 
I  suppose,  of  Mr.  Choate,  that,  certainly  during  the 
last  ten  years  of  his  life,  he  gave  much  of  his  thoughts 
to  those  noble  and  elevating  problems  which  relate  to 
the  nature  and  destiny  of  man,  to  the  nature  of  God, 
to  the  great  hereafter  ;  recognizing,  Sir,  that  great 
truth  —  so  beautifully  expressed  in  his  favorite  tongue 

—  in  sacred  writ,  Ta  py  f&exopwa  aiawa  —  things  not 
seen  are  eternal.     He  studied  not  merely  psychology ; 
he  knew  well  the  great  schools  of  philosophy  ;  he  knew 
well  their  characteristics,  and  read  their  leading  men. 


366  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  X. 

I  suspect  he  was  the  first  man  in  this  community  who 
read  Sir  William  Hamilton,  and  Mansel's  work  on 
4  The  Limits  of  Religious  Thought ; '  and  I  doubt  if 
the  Chairs  of  Harvard  and  Yale  were  more  familiar 
with  the  English  and  German  mind,  and  their  views 
on  these  great  problems,  than  Mr.  Choate. 

"  He  carried  his  study  even  into  technical  theology. 
He  knew  its  genius  and  spirit  better  than  many  divines. 
He  knew  in  detail  the  great  dogmas  of  St.  Augustine ; 
and  he  studied  and  knew  John  Calvin  and  Luther.  Ho 
knew  the  great  principles  which  lie  at  the  foundation 
of  Catholic  theology  and  institutions,  and  the  theology 
of  the  Evangelical  school ;  and  he  knew  and  studied 
the  rationalistic  writings  of  the  Germans,  and  was 
familiar  with  their  theories  and  characteristics. 

"  With  all  those  persons  whom  he  met  and  who  he 
felt,  with  reasonable  confidence,  had  sufficient  eleva 
tion  to  value  these  subjects,  he  conversed  upon  them 
freely.  But  beyond  this  —  as  to  his  opinions,  his  re 
sults —  I  have  no  right  to  speak.  I  only  wished  to 
allude  to  a  few  of  the  more  prominent  of  his  charac 
teristics  ;  and  it  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  remember, 
at  this  moment,  that  he  had  the  elevation  of  mind  so 
to  lay  hold  upon  the  greatest  of  all  subjects. 

"  I  meant  to  have  spoken  of  his  studies  of  the  Eng 
lish  prose-writers,  among  whom  Bacon  and  Burke  had 
his  preference.  But  he  read  them  all,  and  loved  to 
read  them  all ;  from  the  scholastic  stateliness  of  Mil 
ton,  warring  for  the  right  of  expressing  thoughts  for 
all  ages,  to  the  simplicity  of  Cowper's  Letters. 

"  But  all  this  is  gone  for  us  !  We  are  never  to  see 
him  again  in  the  places  that  knew  him.  To  think  that 
he,  of  all  men,  who  loved  his  home  so,  should  have 


1858-1859.]        ADDRESS  OF  HON.  B.  R.  CURTIS.  367 

died  among  strangers !  That  he,  of  all  men,  should 
have  died  under  a  foreign  flag !  I  can  go  no  further. 
I  can  only  call  upon  all  to  bear  witness  now,  and  to 
the  next  generation,  that  he  stood  before  us  an  ex 
ample  of  eminence  in  science,  in  erudition,  in  genius, 
in  taste,  —  in  honor,  in  generosity,  in  humanity,  —  in 
every  liberal  sentiment,  and  every  liberal  accomplish 
ment." 

ADDRESS  OF  HON.  BENJAMIN  R.  CURTIS  ON  PRESENTING  TO 
THE  SUPREME  JUDICIAL  COURT  THE  RESOLUTIONS  OF  THE 
SUFFOLK  BAR.  —  [Sept.  20,  1859.] 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor : 

"  I  have  been  directed  by  the  Bar  of  the  County  of 
Suffolk,  to  present  to  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court  cer 
tain  resolutions  adopted  by  them,  upon  the  decease 
of  their  lamented  and  distinguished  brother,  Rufus 
Choate,  and  to  request  the  Court  to  have  these  resolu 
tions  entered  on  record  here.  They  were  adopted  at 
a  meeting  of  the  members  of  this  bar,  held  in  this 
place  on  the  19th  day  of  July  last,  since  which  time 
the  Supreme  Judicial  Court  is  now  first  in  session 
for  the  business  of  the  County  of  Suffolk.  With  the 
leave  of  the  Court  I  will  ask  the  clerk  to  read  the 
resolutions.  [The  clerk  read  the  resolutions,  which 
have  been  published  heretofore.] 

"  This  is  not  the  occasion,  nor  is  it  devolved  on  me, 
to  pronounce  a  eulogy  on  the  subject  of  these  resolu 
tions,  whose  death  in  the  midst  of  his  brilliant  and 
important  career  has  made  so  profound  an  impression 
on  his  brethren  of  the  bar  and  of  the  community  at 
large.  The  Court  will  have  noticed  that  by  one  of 
the  resolutions  I  have  read,  other  suitable  provision 


368  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CIIOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

has  been  made  for  that  tribute  of  respect  to  him,  and 
for  doing  justice  to  their  sense  of  their  own  and  the 
public  loss.  But  the  relations  which  Mr.  Choate  long 
sustained  to  this  Court  have  been  too  conspicuous  and 
too  important  to  me  to  be  wholly  silent  here  respecting 
them.  The  bench  and  the  bar  are  mutually  dependent 
on  each  other  for  that  co-operation  which  is  essential 
to  the  steady,  prompt,  and  successful  distribution  of 
justice.  Without  the  assistance  and  support  of  a 
learned,  industrious,  able,  and  honest  bar,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  no  bench  in  this  country  can  sustain 
itself,  and  its  most  strenuous  exertions  can  result  only 
in  a  halting  and  uncertain  course  of  justice.  Without 
a  learned,  patient,  just,  and  courageous  bench,  there 
will  not  for  any  long  time  continue  to  be  a  bar  fitted 
for  its  high  and  difficult  duties. 

"  When,  therefore,  one  of  their  number,  who  for 
many  years  has  exerted  his  great  and  brilliant  powers 
in  this  forum,  has  been  removed  by  death,  we  feel  that 
in  its  annunciation  to  this  Court,  we  make  known  a 
fact  of  importance  to  itself,  and  that  we  may  be  sure 
of  its  sympathy,  and  of  its  appreciation  of  what  is  in 
deed  a  common  loss.  You  have  witnessed  his  labors 
and  know  how  strenuous,  how  frequent,  how  great, 
how  devoted  to  his  duty  they  have  been.  You  have 
been  instructed  by  his  learning  and  relieved  by  his 
analysis  of  complicated  controversies.  You  have 
doubtless  been  delighted  by  his  eloquence  and  informed 
and  interested  by  the  fruits  of  his  rich  and  liberal  cul 
ture.  And  when  his  brethren  of  the  bar  come  here 
to  make  known  their  sense  of  their  loss,  they  cannot 
be  unmindful  that  to  you  also  it  is  a  loss,  not  in  one 
day  to  be  repaired. 


1858-1859.]        ADDRESS  OF  HON.  B.  R.  CURTIS.  369 

"  We  are  aware  that  it  has  sometimes  been  thought, 
and  by  the  thoughtless  or  inexperienced  often  said, 
that  from  his  lips  '  With  fatal  sweetness  elocution 
flowed.'  But  they  who  have  thought  or  said  this  have 
but  an  imperfect  notion  of  the  nature  of  our  judicial 
controversies,  or  of  the  ability  for  the  discovery  of 
truth  and  justice  which  may  be  expected  here. 

"  Such  persons  begin  with  the  false  assumption  that 
in  the  complicated  cases  which  are  brought  to  trial 
here,  one  party  is  altogether  right  and  the  other  alto 
gether  wrong.  They  are  ignorant,  that  in  nearly  all 
cases  there  is  truth  and  justice  and  law  on  both  sides  ; 
that  it  is  for  the  tribunal  to  discover  how  much  of 
these  belongs  to  each,  and  to  balance  them,  and  ascer 
tain  which  preponderates ;  and  that  so  artificial  are 
the  greater  portion  of  our  social  rights,  and  so  complex 
the  facts  on  which  they  depend,  that  it  is  only  by 
means  of  such  an  investigation  and  decision  that  it 
can  be  certainly  known  on  which  side  the  real  justice 
is.  That,  consequently,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  advocate 
to  manifest  and  enforce  all  the  elements  of  justice, 
truth,  and  law  which  exist  on  one  side,  and  to  take 
care  that  no  false  appearances  of  those  great  realities 
are  exhibited  on  the  other.  That  while  the  zealous 
discharge  of  this  duty  is  consistent  with  the  most  de 
voted  loyalty  to  truth  and  justice,  it  calls  for  the  exer 
tion  of  the  highest  attainments  and  powers  of  the 
lawyer  and  the  advocate,  in  favor  of  the  particular 
party  whose  interests  have  been  intrusted  to  his  care. 
And  if  from  eloquence  and  learning  and  skill  and 
laborious  preparation  and  ceaseless  vigilance,  so  pre 
eminent  as  in  Mr.  Choate,  there  might  seem  to  be 
danger  that  the  scales  might  incline  to  the  wrong  side, 

24 


370  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

some  compensation  would  be  made  by  the  increased 
exertion  to  which  that  seeming  danger  would  natu 
rally  incite  his  opponents  ;  and  I  am  happy  to  believe, 
what  he  believed,  that  as  complete  security  against 
wrong  as  the  nature  of  human  institutions  will  permit, 
has  always  been  found  in  the  steadiness,  intelligence, 
love  of  justice,  and  legal  learning  of  the  tribunal  by 
which  law  and  fact  are  here  finally  determined. 

"  I  desire,  therefore,  on  this  occasion,  and  in  this 
presence,  and  in  behalf  of  my  brethren  of  this  bar,  to 
declare  our  appreciation  of  the  injustice  which  would 
be  done  to  this  great  and  eloquent  advocate  by  at 
tributing  to  him  any  want  of  loyalty  to  truth,  or  any 
deference  to  wrong,  because  he  employed  all  his  great 
powers  and  attainments,  and  used  to  the  utmost  his 
consummate  skill  and  eloquence,  in  exhibiting  and  en 
forcing  the  comparative  merits  of  one  side  of  the  cases 
in  which  he  acted.  In  doing  so  he  but  did  his  duty. 
If  other  people  did  theirs,  the  administration  of  justice 
was  secured. 

"  A  trial  in  a  court  of  justice  has  been  fitly  termed 
a  drama  in  which  the  actors,  the  events,  and  the  pas 
sions  were  all  realities  ;  and  of  the  parts  which  the 
members  of  the  legal  profession  play  therein,  it  was 
once  said,  by  one  who,  I  think,  should  have  known 
better,  that  they  are  brawlers  for  hire.  I  believe  the 
charge  can  have  no  general  application — certainly  not 
to  those  who,  within  my  experience,  have  practised  at 
this  bar,  where  good  manners  have  been  as  common 
as  good  learning.  At  all  events,  he  of  whom  I 
speak  was  a  signal  example  that  all  lawyers  are  not 
brawlers. 

"  For,  among  other  things  most  worthy  to  be  re- 


1858-1859.]          ADDRESS  OF  HON.  B.  R.  CURTIS.  371 

membered  of  him,  he  showed,  in  the  most  convincing 
manner,  that  forensic  strife  is  consistent  with  uniform 
personal  kindness  and  gentleness  of  demeanor ;  that 
mere  smartness,  or  aggressive  and  irritating  captious- 
ness,  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  most  effective  con 
duct  of  a  cause ;  that  the  business  of  aii  advocate  is 
with  the  law  and  the  evidence,  and  not  in  provoking 
or  humbling  an  opponent;  that  wrangling,  and  the 
irritations  which  spring  from  it,  obstruct  the.  course  of 
justice  ;  and  are  indeed  twice  cursed,  for  they  injure 
him  who  gives  and  him  who  receives. 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  have  the  concurrence  of  the 
Court  when  I  say,  that  among  all  Mr.  Choate's  extra 
ordinary  gifts  of  nature  and  graces  of  art,  there  was 
nothing  more  remarkable  than  the  sweetness  of  his 
temper  and  the  courtesy  of  his  manners,  both  to  the 
bench  and  the  bar.  However  eager  might  be  the  strife, 
however  exhausting  the  toil,  however  anxious  the  care, 
—  these  were  never  lost.  The  recollection  of  them  is 
now  in  all  our  hearts. 

"  I  need  not  repeat  that  I  shall  make  no  attempt  to 
draw  even  an  outline  of  the  qualities  and  attainments 
and  powers  of  this  great  advocate.  Under  any  circum 
stances  I  should  distrust  my  own  ability  for  the  work, 
and  as  I  have  already  said,  it  is  not  expected  of  me 
here. 

"  I  have  simply  to  move  this  Honorable  Court  to 
receive  these  resolutions,  and  direct  them  to  be  entered 
of  record." 

In  accordance  with  the  vote  of  the  Suffolk  Bar,  the 
resolutions  were  presented  to  the  United  States  Dis 
trict  Court  by  the  District  Attorney,  and  the  following 
reply  was  made  by  Mr.  Justice  Sprague :  — 


372  MEMOIR   OF  KUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

"  Notwithstanding  the  time  that  has  elapsed  since 
the  death  of  Mr.  Choate,  and  the  numerous  demon 
strations  of  respect  by  the  bar,  by  judicial  tribunals, 
deliberative  bodies,  and  popular  assemblies,  still  it  is 
proper  that  such  an  event  should  not  pass  unnoticed 
in  this  court.  Others  have  spoken  fully  and  eloquently 
of  his  eminence  and  excellence  in  various  depart 
ments  ;  we  may  here  at  least  appropriately  say  some 
thing  of  him  as  a  lawyer  and  an  advocate.  His  life 
was  mainly  devoted  to  the  practice  of  his  profession, 
and  this  court  was  the  scene  of  many  of  his  greatest 
efforts  and  highest  achievements.  I  believe  him  to 
have  been  the  most  accomplished  advocate  that  this 
country  has  produced.  With  extraordinary  genius  he 
united  unremitted  industry,  devoted  almost  exclusively 
to  the  law,  and  to  those  literary  studies  which  tend 
most  directly  to  accomplish  and  perfect  the  orator  and 
the  advocate.  The  result  was  wonderful.  His  com 
mand  of  language  was  unequalled.  I  certainly  have 
heard  no  one  who  approached  him  in  the  richness  of 
his  vocabulary.  This  wealth  he  used  profusely,  but 
with  a  discrimination,  a  felicity  of  expression,  and  an 
ease  and  flow,  which  were  truly  marvellous.  Although 
to  the  careless  or  unintelligent  hearer  his  words  would 
sometimes  seem  to  be  in  excess,  yet  to  the  attentive 
and  cultivated  every  word  had  its  appropriate  place 
and  its  shade  of  meaning,  conducing  more  or  less  to 
the  perfection  of  the  picture.  To  those  who  heard 
Mr.  Choate  for  the  first  time,  it  would  seem  as  though 
this  ready  outpouring  of  choice  and  expressive  lan 
guage  must  be  the  result  of  special  preparation.  But 
those  who  have  heard  him  often,  especially  in  those 
unforeseen  emergencies  which  so  frequently  arise  in 


1858-1859.]      REMARKS  OF  JUDGE  SPRAGUE.  373 

the  trial  of  causes,  knew  that  the  stream,  which  was 
so  full  and  clear  and  brilliant,  gushed  forth  from  a 
fountain  as  exhaustless  as  Nature. 

<  Rusticus  expectat  dum  defluat  amnis  ;  at  ille 
Labitur,  et  labetur  in  omne  volubilis  sevum.' 

"  But  it  is  not  to  be  understood  by  any  means  that 
Mr.  Choate's  highest  merit  consisted  in  his  rhetoric. 
That,  indeed,  was  the  most  striking.  But  those  who 
had  most  profoundly  considered  and  mastered  the  sub 
ject  saw  that  the  matter  of  his  discourse,  the  thought, 
was  worthy  of  the  drapery  with  which  it  was  clothed. 
His  mind  was  at  once  comprehensive  and  acute.  No 
judicial  question  was  too  enlarged  for  its  vision,  and 
none  too  minute  for  its  analysis.  To  the  Court  he 
could  present  arguments  learned,  logical,  and  pro 
found,  or  exquisitely  refined  and  subtle,  as  the  occasion 
seemed  to  require.  But  it  was  in  trials  before  a  jury 
that  he  was  pre-eminent.  Nothing  escaped  his  vigi 
lance,  and  nothing  was  omitted  that  could  contribute 
to  a  verdict  for  his  client.  His  skill  in  the  examina 
tion  of  witnesses  was  consummate.  I  have  never  seen 
it  equalled.  The  character  of  the  jury,  individually 
and  collectively,  was  not  overlooked,  and  their  opinions 
and  prejudices  were  not  only  respected,  but  soothed 
and  conciliated  with  the  utmost  tact  and  delicacy. 
His  quickness  of  apprehension  and  untiring  applica 
tion  of  all  his  energies  to  the  cause  in  hand  gave  him 
complete  mastery  of  his  materials.  His  self-possession 
was  perfect.  However  suddenly  the  aspect  of  his 
cause  might  be  clouded  by  unexpected  developments, 
he  was  never  disconcerted.  He  had  wonderful  fertility 
of  resources,  which  were  always  at  instant  command, 


374  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

and  seemed  to  multiply  with  the  difficulties  which 
called  them  forth.  Whatever  the  course  previously 
marked  out,  or  however  laboriously  a  position  had 
been  fortified,  they  were  without  hesitation  abandoned 
the  moment  that  a  new  exigency  rendered  it  expedient 
to  take  other  grounds,  and  the  transition  was  often 
effected  with  such  facility  and  adroitness  that  his  op 
ponent  found  himself  assailed  from  a  new  quarter  be 
fore  he  had  suspected  a  change  of  position. 

"  In  his  arguments,  not  only  was  each  topic  pre 
sented  in  all  its  force,  but  they  were  all  arranged  with 
artistic  skill,  so  as  mutually  to  sustain  and  strengthen 
each  other,  and  present  a  harmonious  and  imposing 
whole.  He  usually  began  his  address  to  the  jury  with 
a  rapid  and  comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  trial,  in 
which  he  grouped  and  made  strikingly  prominent  the 
circumstances  which  would  make  the  strongest  im 
pression  of  the  fairness  of  his  client  and  the  justness 
of  his  cause ;  thus  securing  the  sympathy  and  good 
wishes  of  the  jury,  while  he  should  take  them  with 
him  through  that  fulness  of  detail  and  that  searching 
analysis  which  was  sure  to  follow.  However  pro 
tracted  his  arguments,  they  were  listened  to  through 
out  with  eager  attention.  His  matter,  manner,  and 
diction  created  such  interest  and  pleasure  in  what  was 
uttered,  and  such  expectation  of  new  and  striking 
thoughts  and  expressions  to  come,  that  attention  could 
not  be  withdrawn.  With  a  memory  stored  with  the 
choicest  literature  of  our  own  and  other  languages, 
and  a  strong,  vivid,  and  prolific  imagination,  his  argu 
ment  was  rarely  decked  with  flowers.  It  presented 
rather  the  grave  and  gorgeous  foliage  of  our  resplen 
dent  autumn  forest,  infinite  in  richness  and  variety,  but 


1858-1859.]        REMARKS  OF  JUDGE  SPRAGUE.  375 

from  which  we  should  hardly  be  willing  to  spare  a  leaf 
or  a  tint.  Such  was  his  genius,  his  opulence  of  thought, 
and  intenseness  of  expression,  that  we  involuntarily 
speak  of  him  in  unmeasured  and  unqualified  terms. 

"  The  characteristic  which  perhaps  has  been  most 
dwelt  upon  by  those  who  have  spoken  of  Mr.  Choate, 
was  his  invincible  good  temper.  This  especially  en 
deared  him,  not  only  to  his  brethren  of  the  bar,  but, 
also,  to  the  bench.  Anxious,  earnest,  and  even  vehe 
ment,  in  his  advocacy,  and  sometimes  suffering  from 
disease,  still  no  vicissitude  or  vexations  of  the  cause, 
or  annoyance  from  opponents,  could  infuse  into  his 
address  any  tinge  of  bitterness,  or  cause  him  for  a 
moment  to  forget  his  habitual  courtesy  arid  kindness. 
He  never  made  assaults  upon  opposing  counsel,  and  if 
made  on  him,  they  were  repelled  with  mildness  and 
forbearance.  If,  indeed,  his  opponent  sometimes  felt 
the  keen  point  of  a  pungent  remark,  it  seemed  rather 
to  have  slipped  from  an  overfull  quiver  than  to  have 
been  intentionally  hurled.  This  abstinence  was  the 
more  meritorious,  because  the  temptation  of  super 
abundant  ability  was  not  wanting. 

"  We  can  hardly  measure  his  power  for  evil  if  he 
had  studied  the  language  of  offence,  and  turned  his 
eloquence  into  the  channels  of  vituperation.  But 
against  this  perversion  he  was  secured  by  his  kindly 
nature.  I  am  sure  that  it  would  have  been  to  him  a 
source  of  anguish  to  believe  that  he  had  inflicted  a 
wound  which  rankled  in  the  breast  of  another. 

"  No  man  was  more  exempt  from  vanity.  He  seemed 
to  have  no  thought  for  himself,  but  only  for  his  client 
and  his  cause.  The  verdict  was  kept  steadily  in  view. 
His  most  brilliant  efforts  had  no  indication  of  self- 


376  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

exhibition  or  display.  Magnificent  as  they  were,  they 
seemed  to  be  almost  involuntary  outpourings  from  a 
fulness  of  thought  and  language  that  could  not  be 
repressed.  From  feeling,  reflection,  and  habit,  he 
was  a  supporter  of  law,  and  of  that  order  which  is  the 
result  of  its  regular  administration.  He  was  truly  a 
friend  of  the  Court,  and  his  manner  to  them  was  in 
variably  respectful  and  deferential.  He  took  an  en 
lightened  view  of  their  duties,  and  appreciated  their 
difficulties ;  and  received  their  judgments,  even  when 
adverse  to  his  wishes,  if  not  always  with  entire  acquies 
cence,  at  least  with  candor  and  graceful  submission. 
We  cannot  but  sympathize  with  the  bar  in  a  bereave 
ment  which  has  taken  from  us  such  an  associate  and 
friend,  by  whom  the  Court  has  been  so  often  enlight 
ened  and  aided  in  their  labors,  and  whose  rare  gifts 
contributed  to  make  the  i  light  of  jurisprudence  glad- 


On  Friday,  the  22d  of  July,  a  public  meeting  of  the 
citizens  of  Boston  was  held  in  Faneuil  Hall.  The 
darkened  windows,  the  burning  gas-lights,  the  pillars 
and  galleries  covered  with  mourning  drapery,  the  heavy 
festoons  stretching  from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  to 
the  capitals  of  the  pillars,  the  quiet  crowd  weighed 
down  as  by  a  general  calamity,  all  spoke  the  one 
language  of  bereavement  and  grief.  Addresses  were 
made  by  many  distinguished  persons,  and  among 
others,  by  Mr.  Everett,  who  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

ADDRESS  OF  MR.  EVERETT. 

"MR.  MAYOR  AND  FELLOW-CITIZENS,  —  I  obey  the 
only  call  which  could  with  propriety  have  drawn  me  at 


1858-1859.]         ADDRESS  OF  MR.   EVERETT.  377 

this  time  from  my  retirement,  in  accepting  your  invita 
tion  to  unite  with  you  in  the  melancholy  duties  which 
we  are  assembled  to  perform.  While  I  speak,  Sir,  the 
lifeless  remains  of  our  dear  departed  friend  are  ex 
pected  ;  it  may  be  have  already  returned  to  his  bereaved 
home.  We  sent  him  forth,  but  a  few  days  since,  in 
search  of  health  ;  the  exquisite  bodily  organization 
over- tasked  and  shattered,  but  the  master  intellect  still 
shining  in  unclouded  strength.  Anxious,  but  not  de 
sponding,  we  sent  him  forth,  hoping  that  the  bracing 
air  of  the  ocean,  which  he  greatly  loved,  the  respite 
from  labor,  the  change  of  scene,  the  cheerful  inter 
course  which  he  was  so  well  calculated  to  enjoy  with 
congenial  spirits  abroad,  would  return  him  to  us  re 
freshed  and  renovated  ;  but  he  has  come  back  to  us 
dust  and  ashes,  a  pilgrim  already  on  his  way  to 

'  The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourne 
No  traveller  returns/ 

"  How  could  I  refuse  to  bear  my  humble  part  in  the 
tribute  of  respect  which  you  are  assembled  to  pay  to 
the  memory  of  such  a  man  !  —  a  man  not  only  honored 
by  me,  in  common  with  the  whole  country,  but  ten 
derly  cherished  as  a  faithful  friend,  from  the  morning 
of  his  days,  and  almost  from  the  morning  of  mine,  — 
one  with  whom  through  life  I  was  delighted  to  take 
sweet  counsel,  for  whom  I  felt  an  affection  never  chilled 
for  a  moment,  during  forty  years  since  it  sprung  up. 
1  knew  our  dear  friend,  Sir,  from  the  time  that  he  en 
tered  the  Law  School  at  Cambridge.  I  was  associated 
with  him  as  one  of  the  Massachusetts  delegation  in  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States,  between 
whom  and  myself  there  was  an  entire  community  of 


378  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

feeling  and  opinion  on  all  questions  of  men  and  meas 
ures;  and  with  whom,  in  these  later  years,  as  his  near 
neighbor,  and  especially  when  sickness  confined  him 
at  home,  I  have  enjoyed  opportunities  of  the  most  inti 
mate  social  intercourse. 

"  Now  that  he  is  gone,  Sir,  I  feel  that  one  more  is 
taken  away  of  those  most  trusted  and  loved,  and  with 
whom  I  had  most  hoped  to  finish  the  journey  ;  nay, 
Sir,  one  whom,  in  the  course  of  nature,  I  should  have 
preceded  to  its  end,  and  who  would  have  performed  for 
me  the  last  kindly  office,  which  I,  with  drooping  spirit, 
would  fain  perform  for  him. 

"  But  although  with  a  willing  heart  I  undertake  the 
duty  you  have  devolved  upon  me,  I  cannot  but  feel  how 
little  remains  to  be  said.  It  is  but  echoing  the  voice, 
which  has  been  heard  from  every  part  of  the  country, 
—  from  the  Bar,  from  the  Press,  from  every  Association 
by  which  it  could  with  propriety  be  uttered,  —  to  say 
that  he  stood  at  the  head  of  his  profession  in  this 
country. 

"  If,  in  his  own  or  in  any  other  part  of  the  Union, 
there  was  his  superior  in  any  branch  of  legal  knowl 
edge,  there  was  certainly  no  one  who  united,  to  the 
same  extent,  profound  learning  in  the  law,  with  a  range 
almost  boundless  of  miscellaneous  reading,  reasoning 
powers  of  the  highest  order,  intuitive  quickness  of  per 
ception,  a  wanness  and  circumspection  never  taken  by 
surprise,  and  an  imagination,  which  rose,  on  a  bold  and 
easy  wing,  to  the  highest  heaven  of  invention.  These 
powers,  trained  by  diligent  cultivation,  these  attain 
ments,  combined  and  applied  with  sound  judgment, 
consummate  skill,  and  exquisite  taste,  necessarily 
placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  profession  of  his  choice ; 


1858-1859.]        ADDRESS  OF  MR.  EVERETT.  379 

where,  since  the  death  of  Mr.  Webster,  he  shone  with 
out  a  rival. 

"  With  such  endowments,  formed  at  the  best  schools 
of  professional  education,  exercised  with  unwearied 
assiduity,  through  a  long  professional  life,  under  the 
spur  of  generous  ambition,  and  the  heavy  responsibility 
of  an  ever-growing  reputation  to  be  sustained,  —  if 
possible  to  be  raised,  —  he  could  fill  no  second  place. 

"  But  he  did  not,  like  most  eminent  jurists,  content 
himself  with  the  learning  or  the  fame  of  his  profession. 
He  was  more  than  most  men  in  any  profession,  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word,  a  man  of  letters.  He  kept  up 
his  Academical  studies  in  after-life.  He  did  not  think 
it  the  part  either  of  wisdom  or  good  taste  to  leave  be 
hind  him  at  school,  or  at  college,  the  noble  languages 
of  the  great  peoples  of  antiquity ;  but  he  continued 
through  life  to  read  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics. 

"  He  was  also  familiar  with  the  whole  range  of  Eng 
lish  literature  ;  and  he  had  a  respectable  acquaintance 
with  the  standard  French  authors.  This  wide  and  va 
ried  circle  of  reading  not  only  gave  a  liberal  expansion 
to  his  mind,  in  all  directions,  but  it  endowed  him  with 
a  great  wealth  of  choice  but  unstudied  language,  and 
enabled  him  to  command  a  richness  of  illustration, 
whatever  subject  he  had  in  hand,  beyond  most  of  our 
public  speakers  and  writers.  This  taste  for  reading 
was  formed  in  early  life.  While  he  was  at  the  Law 
School  at  Cambridge,  I  was  accustomed  to  meet  him 
more  frequently  than  any  other  person  of  his  standing 
in  the  alcoves  of  the  library  of  the  University. 

"  As  he  advanced  in  years,  and  acquired  the  means 
of  gratifying  his  taste  in  this  respect,  he  formed  a  mis 
cellaneous  collection,  probably  as  valuable  as  any  other 


380  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

in  Boston  ;  and  he  was  accustomed  playfully  to  say 
that  every  Saturday  afternoon,  after  the  labor  of  the 
week,  he  indulged  himself  in  buying  and  bringing 
home  a  new  book.  Thus  reading  with  a  keen  relish, 
as  a  relaxation  from  professional  toil,  and  with  a  mem 
ory  that  nothing  worth  retaining  escaped,  he  became  a 
living  storehouse  of  polite  literature,  out  of  which,  with 
rare  felicity  and  grace,  he  brought  forth  treasures  new 
and  old,  not  deeming  these  last  the  least  precious. 

"  Though  living  mainly  for  his  profession,  Mr. 
Choate  engaged  to  some  extent  in  public  life,  and  that 
at  an  early  age,  as  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of 
Massachusetts,  and  of  the  National  House  of  Represen 
tatives,  and  in  riper  years  as  a  Senator  of  the  United 
States,  as  the  successor  of  Mr.  Webster,  whose  entire 
confidence  he  enjoyed,  and  whose  place  he,  if  any  one, 
was  not  unworthy  to  fill.  In  these  different  positions, 
he  displayed  consummate  ability.  His  appearance,  his 
silent  demeanor,  in  either  House  of  Congress  com 
manded  respect.  He  was  one  of  the  few  whose  very 
presence  in  a  public  assembly  is  a  call  to  order. 

"  In  the  daily  routine  of  legislation  he  did  not  take 
an  active  part.  He  rather  shunned  clerical  work,  and 
consequently  avoided,  as  much  as  duty  permitted,  the 
labor  of  the  committee-room  ;  but  on  every  great  ques 
tion  that  came  up  while  he  was  a  member  of  either 
House  of  Congress,  he  made  a  great  speech ;  and  when 
he  had  spoken,  there  was  very  little  left  for  any  one 
else  to  say  on  the  same  side  of  the  question.  I  re 
member  on  one  occasion,  after  he  had  been  defending, 
on  broad  national  grounds,  the  policy  of  affording  a 
moderate  protection  to  our  native  industry,  showing 
that  it  was  not  merely  a  local  but  a  national  interest, 


1858-1859.]         ADDRESS  OF  MR.  EVERETT.  381 

and  seeking  to  establish  this  point  by  a  great  variety 
of  illustrations,  equally  novel  and  ingenious,  a  Western 
member,  who  had  hitherto  wholly  dissented  from  this 
view  of  the  subject,  exclaimed  that  he  <  was  the  most 
persuasive  speaker  he  had  ever  heard.' 

"  But  though  abundantly  able  to  have  filled  a  promi 
nent  place  among  the  distinguished  active  statesmen  of 
the  day,  he  had  little  fondness  for  political  life,  and  no 
aptitude  whatever  for  the  out-doors  management, — 
for  the  electioneering  legerdemain,  —  for  the  wearisome 
correspondence  with  local  great  men,  —  and  the  heart 
breaking  drudgery  of  franking  cart-loads  of  speeches 
and  public  documents  to  the  four  winds,  —  which  are 
necessary  at  the  present  day  to  great  success  in  a  po 
litical  career.  Still  less  adroit  was  he  in  turning  to 
some  personal  advantage  whatever  topic  happens  for 
the  moment  to  attract  public  attention ;  fishing  with 
ever  freshly  baited  hook  in  the  turbid  waters  of  an 
ephemeral  popularity.  In  reference  to  some  of  the  arts 
by  which  political  advancement  is  sought  and  obtained, 
he  once  said  to  me,  with  that  well-known  characteristic 
look,  in  which  sadness  and  compassionate  pleasantry 
were  about  equally  mingled,  '  They  did  not  do  such 
things  in  Washington's  day.' 

"  If  ever  there  was  a  truly  disinterested  patriot,  Rufus 
Choate  was  that  man.  In  his  political  career  there 
was  no  shade  of  selfishness.  Had  he  been  willing  to 
purchase  advancement  at  the  price  often  paid  for  it, 
there  was  never  a  moment,  from  the  time  he  first  made 
himself  felt  and  known,  that  he  could  not  have  com 
manded  any  thing  which  any  party  could  bestow.  But 
he  desired  none  of  the  rewards  or  honors  of  success. 
On  the  contrary,  he  not  only  for  his  individual  self,  re- 


382  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

garded  office  as  a  burden  —  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
the  cultivation  of  his  professional  and  literary  tastes  — 
but  he  held,  that  of  necessity,  and  in  consequence  of 
the  strong  tendency  of  our  parties  to  assume  a  sectional 
character,  conservative  opinions,  seeking  to  moderate 
between  the  extremes  which  agitate  the  country,  must 
of  necessity  be  in  the  minority  ;  that  it  was  the  c  mis 
sion  '  of  men  who  hold  such  opinions,  not  to  fill  honor 
able  and  lucrative  posts  which  are  unavoidably  monop 
olized  by  active  leaders,  but  to  speak  prudent  words  on 
great  occasions,  which  would  command  the  respect,  if 
they  do  not  enlist  the  sympathies,  of  both  the  conflict 
ing  parties,  and  thus  insensibly  influence  the  public 
mind.  He  comprehended  and  accepted  the  position : 
he  knew  that  it  was  one  liable  to  be  misunderstood,  and 
sure  to  be  misrepresented  at  the  time  ;  but  not  less 
sure  to  be  justified  when  the  interests  and  passions  of 
the  day  are  buried,  as  they  are  now  for  him,  beneath 
the  clods  of  the  valley. 

"  But  this  ostracism,  to  which  his  conservative  opin 
ions  condemned  him,  produced  not  a  shade  of  bitter 
ness  in  his  feelings.  His  patriotism  was  as  cheerful  as 
it  was  intense.  He  regarded  our  Confederated  Repub 
lic,  with  its  wonderful  adjustment  of  State  and  Federal 
organization  —  the  States  bearing  the  burden  and  de 
scending  to  the  details  of  local  administration,  the 
General  Government  moulding  the  whole  into  one 
grand  nationality,  and  representing  it  in  the  family  of 
nations  —  as  the  most  wonderful  phenomenon  in  the 
political  history  of  the  world. 

"  Too  much  a  statesman  to  join  the  unreflecting  dis 
paragement  with  which  other  great  forms  of  national 
polity  are  often  spoken  of  in  this  country,  he  yet  consid- 


1858-1859.]        ADDRESS  OF  MR.  EVERETT.  383 

ered  the  oldest,  the  wisest,  and  the  most  successful  of 
them,  the  British  Constitution,  as  a  far  less  wonderful 
political  system  than  our  Confederated  Republic.  The 
territorial  extent  of  the  country ;  the  beautiful  play 
into  each  other  of  its  great  commercial,  agricultural, 
and  manufacturing  interests  ;  the  material  prosperity, 
the  advancement  in  arts  and  letters  and  manners,  al 
ready  made  ;  the  capacity  for  further  indefinite  prog 
ress  in  this  vast  theatre  of  action  in  which  Providence 
has  placed  the  Anglo-American  race,  —  stretching  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  from  the  Arctic  circle  to 
the  tropics,  —  were  themes  on  which  he  dwelt  as  none 
but  he  could  dwell ;  and  he  believed  that  with  patience, 
with  mutual  forbearance,  with  a  willingness  to  think 
that  our  brethren,  however  widely  we  may  differ  from 
them,  may  be  as  honest  and  patriotic  as  ourselves,  our 
common  country  would  eventually  reach  a  height  of 
prosperity  of  which  the  world  as  yet  has  seen  no  ex 
ample. 

u  With  such  gifts,  such  attainments,  and  such  a 
spirit,  he  placed  himself,  as  a  matter  of  course,  not 
merely  at  the  head  of  the  jurists  and  advocates,  but  of 
the  public  speakers  of  the  country.  After  listening  to 
him  at  the  bar,  in  the  Senate,  or  upon  the  academic  or 
popular  platform,  you  felt  that  you  had  heard  the  best 
that  could  be  heard  in  either  place.  That  mastery 
which  he  displayed  at  the  forum  and  in  the  deliberative 
assembly  was  not  less  conspicuous  in  every  other  form 
of  public  address. 

"  As  happens  in  most  cases  of  eminent  jurists  and 
statesmen,  possessing  a  brilliant  imagination,  and  able 
to  adorn  a  severe  course  of  reasoning  with  the  charms 
of  a  glowing  fancy  and  a  sparkling  style,  it  was  some- 


384  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

times  said  of  him,  as  it  was  said  before  him  of  Burke 
and  Erskine,  of  Ames  and  Pinckney, — that  he  was 
more  of  a  rhetorician  than  a  logician  ;  that  he  dealt  in 
words  and  figures  of  speech  more  than  in  facts  or  ar 
guments.  These  are  the  invidious  comments  by  which 
dull  or  prejudiced  men  seek  to  disparage  those  gifts 
which  are  farthest  from  their  own  reach. 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  by  his  discourses  on  academical  and 
popular  occasions  that  he  is  most  extensively  known  in 
the  community,  as  it  is  these  which  were  listened  to 
with  delighted  admiration  by  the  largest  audiences. 
He  loved  to  treat  a  pure  literary  theme  ;  and  he  knew 
how  to  throw  a  magic  freshness  —  like  the  cool  morn 
ing  dew  on  a  cluster  of  purple  grapes  —  over  the  most 
familiar   topics   at   a   patriotic  celebration.     Some  of 
these  occasional  performances  will  ever  be  held  among 
the  brightest  gems  of  our  literature.     The  eulogy  on 
Daniel  Webster  at  Dartmouth  College,  in  which  he 
mingled  at  once  all  the  light  of  his  genius  and  all  the 
warmth  of  his  heart,  has,  within  my  knowledge,  never 
been  equalled  among  the  performances  of  its  class  in 
this  country  for  sympathetic  appreciation  of  a  great 
man,  discriminating  analysis  of  character,  fertility  of 
illustration,  weight  of  sentiment,  and  a  style  at  once 
chaste,   nervous,  and   brilliant.     The   long  sentences 
which  have  been  criticised  in  this,  as  in  his  other  per 
formances,  are  like  those  which  Dr.  Channing  admired 
and  commended  in  Milton's  prose,  —  well  compacted, 
full  of  meaning,  fit  vehicles  of  great  thoughts. 

"  But  he  does  not  deal  exclusively  in  those  ponderous 
sentences.  There  is  nothing  of  the  artificial,  Johnson 
ian  balance  in  his  style.  It  is  as  often  marked  by 
a  pregnant  brevity  as  by  a  sonorous  amplitude.  He 


1858-1859.]          ADDRESS  OF  ME.  EVERETT.  385 

is  sometimes  satisfied,  in  concise,  epigrammatic  clauses, 
to  skirmish  with  his  light  troops  and  drive  in  the  ene 
my's  outposts.  It  is  only  on  fitting  occasions,  when 
great  principles  are  to  be  vindicated  and  solemn  truths 
told,  when  some  moral  or  political  Waterloo  or  Solferino 
is  to  be  fought,  —  that  he  puts  on  the  entire  panoply 
of  his  gorgeous  rhetoric.  It  is  then  that  his  majestic 
sentences  swell  to  the  dimensions  of  his  thought,  — 
that  you  hear  afar  off  the  awful  roar  of  his  rifled  ord 
nance,  and  —  when  he  has  stormed  the  heights  and 
broken  the  centre  and  trampled  the  squares  and  turned 
the  staggering  wing  of  his  adversary,  —  that  he  sounds 
his  imperial  clarion  along  the  whole  line  of  battle,  and 
moves  forward  with  all  his  hosts  in  one  overwhelming 
charge. 

"  Our  friend  was,  in  all  the  personal  relations  of  life, 
the  most  unselfish  and  disinterested  of  men.  Com 
manding,  from  an  early  period,  a  valuable  clientage, 
and  rising  rapidly  to  the  summit  of  his  profession,  and 
to  the  best  practice  in  the  courts  of  Massachusetts,  and 
in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  with  no 
expensive  tastes  or  habits,  and  a  manner  of  life  highly 
unostentatious  and  simple,  advancing  years  overtook 
him  with  but  slender  provision  for  their  decline.  He 
reaped  little  but  fame,  where  he  ought  to  have  reaped 
both  fame  and  fortune.  A  career  which  in  England 
would  have  been  crowned  with  affluence,  and  probably 
with  distinguished  rank  and  office,  found  him  at  sixty 
chained  to  the  treadmill  of  laborious  practice. 

"  He  might,  indeed,  be  regarded  as  a  martyr  to  his 
profession.  He  gave  to  it  his  time,  his  strength,  and 
neglecting  due  care  of  regular  bodily  exercise  and  oc 
casional  entire  relaxation,  he  might  be  said  to  have 

25 


386  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  X. 

given  to  it  his  life.  He  assumed  the  racking  anxieties 
and  feverish  excitements  of  his  clients.  From  the 
courts,  where  he  argued  the  causes  intrusted  to  him, 
with  all  the  energy  of  his  intellect,  rousing  into  cor 
responding  action  an  overtasked  nervous  system,  these 
cares  and  anxieties  followed  him  to  the  weariness  of 
his  midnight  vigils,  and  the  unrest  of  his  sleepless  pil 
low.  In  fthis  way  he  led  a  long  professional  career, 
worn  and  harassed  with  other  men's  cares,  and  sacri 
ficed  ten  added  years  of  active  usefulness  to  the  inten 
sity  with  which  he  threw  himself  into  the  discharge  of 
his  duties  in  middle  life. 

"  There  are  other  recollections  of  our  friend's  career, 
other  phases  of  his  character,  on  which  I  would  gladly 
dwell ;  but  the  hour  has  elapsed,  and  it  is  not  neces 
sary.  The  gentlemen  who  have  preceded  me,  his  pro 
fessional  brethren,  his  pastor,  the  press  of  the  country, 
generously  allowing  past  differences  of  opinion  to  be 
buried  in  his  grave,  have  more  than  made  up  for  any 
deficiency  in  my  remarks.  His  work  is  done,  —  no 
bly,  worthily,  done.  Never  more  in  the  temples  of 
justice,  —  never  more  in  the  Senate  chamber,  —  never 
more  in  the  crowded  assembly,  • —  never  more  in  this 
consecrated  hall,  where  he  so  often  held  listening 
crowds  in  rapt  admiration,  shall  we  catch  the  unearthly 
glance  of  his  eye,  or  listen  to  the  strange  sweet  music 
of  his  voice.  To-morrow  we  shall  follow  him,  —  the 
pure  patriot,  —  the  consummate  jurist,  —  the  eloquent 
orator,  —  the  honored  citizen,  —  the  beloved  friend,  to 
the  last  resting  place  ;  and  who  will  not  feel,  as  we  lay 
him  there,  that  a  brighter  genius  and  a  warmer  heart 
are  not  left  among  living  men !  " 

During  this  meeting,  the  steamboat  which  brought 


1858-1859.]         ADDRESS  OF  MR.  EVERETT.  387 

the  remains  from  Nova  Scotia  came  to  anchor  in  the 
harbor.  The  next  morning,  Saturday,  July  23,  a  pri 
vate  funeral  service  was  held  at  the  house  of  the  de 
ceased,  in  Winthrop  Place,  and  the  body  was  then 
taken  to  the  Essex  Street  Church,  where  a  funeral  ad 
dress  was  made  by  Rev.  Dr.  Nehemiah  Adams.  The 
service  was  attended  by  the  public  functionaries  of  the 
State,  by  the  judges  of  the  court,  the  members  of  the 
bar,  and  a  large  concourse  of  people.  These  ceremo 
nies  over,  the  body  was  borne,  with  every  testimonial 
of  respect,  —  the  booming  of  minute  guns,  the  tolling 
of  bells,  and  the  waving  of  flags  hung  at  half-mast,  — 
to  its  last  resting  place,  under  the  shadows  of  Mount 
Auburn. 


388  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XL 


CHAPTER   XL 

Letter  from  Hon.  John  H.  Clifford  —  Reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate's 
Habits  in  his  Office  —  Thoroughness  of  Preparation  of  Cases  — 
Manner  of  Legal  Study — Intercourse  with  the  Younger  Members 
of  the  Bar  —  Manner  to  the  Court  and  the  Jury  —  Charges  and 
Income  —  Vocabulary  —  Wit  and  Humor  —  Anecdotes  —  Eloquence 

—  Style  —  Note  from  Rev.  Joseph  Tracy  —  Memory  —  Quotations 

—  Fondness  for  Books  —  Reminiscences  by   a  Friend  —  Life  at 
Home  —  Conversation  —  Religious  Feeling  and  Belief. 

IT  may  be  proper  to  present,  in  this  concluding  chapter, 
a  few  additional  testimonials,  and  briefly  to  indicate 
some  of  the  striking  characteristics  of  Mr.  Choate, 
for  which  a  place  could  not  be  found  in  the  body  of 
the  memoir  without  interrupting  the  course  of  the 
narrative. 

FROM  HON.  JOHN  II.  CLIFFORD. 

"  NEW  BEDFORD,  Mass.,  October  26th,  1860. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  comply  with 
your  request,  and  say  an  unstudied  word  of  remembrance  of 
my  professional  associate  and  friend. 

.  "  I  do  this  the  more  readily,  as  I  was  prevented  by  circum 
stances  from  participating  in  the  public  manifestations  of 
respect  and  sorrow,  from  my  brethren  of  the  bar,  and  other 
associations,  with  which  we  were  connected,  which  followed 
immediately  upon  his  death. 

"  In  reply  to  your  specific  inquiry,  respecting  the  selection 
to  be  made  from  Mr.  Choate's  arguments,  as  the  most  valu 
able  for  illustration  of  his  powers  and  quality  as  an  advocate, 
I  can  only  say,  that  a  very  inadequate  and  unsatisfactory  im 
pression  of  either  can  be  derived  from  any  of  the  meagre 
reports  of  his  preat  efforts  at  the  bar.  To  those  who  wtjre 
familiar  with  his  wonderful  genius,  his  wealth  of  learning, 


CHAP.  XL]     LETTER  FROM  HON.  J.  H.  CLIFFORD.          389 

his  genial  humor,  and  his  unparalleled  combinations  of  the 
most  brilliant  rhetoric  with  the  most  massive  logic,  the  at 
tempts  that  have  been  made  to  reproduce  them  have  been 
painfully  disproportionate  to  their  subject ;  while  upon  others 
they  can  hardly  fail  to  produce  a  belittling  and  disparaging 
impression  of  his  great  powers.  I  fear  that,  in  this  respect, 
his  fame  must  share  the  melancholy  fate  of  most  great  law 
yers  and  advocates,  to  be  taken  upon  trust,  and  as  a  tradition 
of  posterity,  rather  than  to  be  verified  to  it  by  its  own  critical 
judgment  of  his  recorded  labors. 

"  In  regard  to  Mr.  Choate's  *  theory  of  advocacy,'  there  has 
been  much  ignorant  and  unconsidered  criticism  since  his 
death,  as  there  was,  indeed,  during  his  life.  In  the  remarks 
of  Judge  Curtis  to  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court  of  Massachu 
setts,  upon  the  presentation  of  the  resolutions  adopted  by  the 
Bar  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Choate's  decease,  there  is  a  just  and 
most  satisfactory  exposition  of  the  true  theory  of  advocacy. 
Assuming  the  views  expressed  in  that  admirable  address  to 
have  been  those  entertained  by  Mr.  Choate,  as  I  have  no 
doubt  they  were  in  substance,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  flippant 
denunciations  of  what  has  been  called  the  '  unscrupulousness 
of  his  advocacy '  are  the  merest  cant  —  as  unsound  and  un 
tenable  in  the  view  which  they  imply  of  a  lawyer's  duty,  as 
they  are  unjust  to  his  memory. 

"  I  had  opportunities  of  observation  for  many  years,  of  the 
practical  application  by  him  of  his  views  of  professional  obli 
gation  in  this  respect,  both  in  civil  and  criminal  cases,  almost 
always  as  an  adversary,  though  occasionally  as  an  associate. 
I  believe  that  a  conscientious  conviction  of  his  duty  led  him, 
at  times,  to  accept  retainers  in  the  latter  class  of  cases,  when 
the  service  to  be  performed  was  utterly  repugnant  and  dis 
tasteful  to  him.  As  a  striking  confirmation  of  this  opinion,  I 
may  state  that,  in  1853,  when  I  vacated  the  office  of  Attorney- 
General,  to  assume  the  administration  of  the  Executive  De 
partment  of  the  government,  it  was  intimated  to  me  by  a 
common  friend  that  the  place  would  be  agreeable  to  Mr. 
Choate.  I,  of  course,  had  no  hesitation  in  promptly  availing 
myself  of  this  opportunity  of  making  the  conceded  chief  of 
the  Bar  its  official  head.  Upon  tendering  to  him  the  appoint 
ment,  which  was  unhesitatingly  and  gracefully  accepted,  I 
learned  that  one  of  the  principal  inducements  leading  him  to 
assume  the  post,  while  he  was  under  the  weightiest  pressure 
of  private  practice,  was  the  avenue  of  escape  which  it  afforded 
him  from  the  defence  of  criminal  causes.  Regarding  the  pro- 


390  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  XI. 

fession  of  his  choice  as  an  office,  and  not  as  a  trade,  he  felt  that 
he  was  not  at  liberty,  when  pressed  by  the  friends  of  parties 
accused  of  crime,  to  refuse  his  services  to  submit  their  defence 
to  the  proper  tribunal,  merely  because  this  department  of  pro 
fessional  labor  was  not  agreeable  to  him,  while  the  acceptance 
of  the  post  of  public  prosecutor  would  give  him  an  honorable 
discharge  from  this  field  of  practice. 

"  It  is  rare  for  a  person  whose  life,  like  his,  had  been  spent 
almost  exclusively  in  the  practice  of  his  profession,  to  secure 
the  affectionate  attachment  of  so  large  and  diversified  a  body 
of  friends.  Much  as  he  was  devoted  to  books,  he  saw  more 
of  the  various  classes  of  men,  from  every  one  of  which  there 
were  sincerer  mourners  over  his  bier,  than  falls  to  the  lot  of 
most  great  lawyers.  This  arose  from  his  varied  and  exten 
sive  clientage,  and  the  broad  range  of  his  practice.  An  Eng 
lish  barrister,  who  is  confined  almost  exclusively  to  a  particular 
circuit,  and  under  their  system  of  minute  subdivision  of  labor, 
frequently  to  one  class  of  causes,  can  with  difficulty  compre 
hend  the  life  of  one  who,  like  Mr.  Choate,  was  familiar  with 
all  the  judicial  tribunals  of  a  country  like  ours,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  Federal  and  State,  and  with  every  de 
partment  of  the  law,  in  all  its  diversified  relations  to  *  the 
business  and  bosoms  of  men.'  Still  more  difficult  is  it  for 
him  to  conceive  how  a  practitioner  in  such  a  wide  field  as 
this  could  be,  as  Mr.  Choate  incontestably  was  facile  princeps, 
wherever  he  appeared. 

"  The  highest  proof  of  his  superiority  is  to  be  found  in  the 
united  testimony  of  those  who  *  stood  nearest  to  him.'  And 
no  one  who  witnessed  the  manifestations  of  respect  for  his 
great  powers,  and  of  affection  for  the  man,  which  were  ex 
hibited  by  his  brethren  of  the  bar,  upon  receiving  the  sad 
intelligence  that  he  was  to  be  with  them  no  more  on  earth, 
can  doubt  the  sincerity  with  which  they  assigned  to  him  the 
first  place  among  this  generation  of  American  lawyers. 

"  For  myself,  I  count  it  as  one  of  the  privileges  and  felici 
ties  of  my  professional  life,  that  Rufus  Choate  was  my  con 
temporary,  associate,  and  friend. 

"  I  am,  dear  Sir,  with  sincere  respect,  truly  yours, 

"JOHN  H.  CLIFFORD. 
'  PROF..  S.  G.  BROWN." 

Mr.  Choate's  business  was  almost  wholly  connected 
with  cases  in  court.  It  might  be  said  that  he  had  no 
conveyancing,  almost  no  drawing  up  of  contracts  or 


CHAP.  XI.]  HABITS  IN  HIS  OFFICE.  391 

wills,  and  very  rare  occasions  for  giving  written  opin 
ions.  Comparatively  few  cases  were  commenced  in 
the  office.  Most  of  his  business  was  the  result  of  out 
side  retainers  in  cases  commenced,  or  to  be  com 
menced,  by  other  counsel,  or  in  defending  cases  already 
commenced. 

Of  Mr.  Choate's  habits  in  his  office  and  in  the 
courts,  a  memorandum,  by  his  son-in-law  and  partner, 
Joseph  M.  Bell,  Esq.,  will  afford  the  best  possible  in 
formation. 

"  When  I  went  to  him,"  says  Mr.  Bell,  "  in  January, 
1849,  we  took  an  office  at  7J-  Tremont  Row,  then  en 
tirely  out  of  the  range  of  the  fraternity.  His  habits 
then  were  these  :  Regularly  at  nine  o'clock  (or,  if 
to  go  into  court,  a  trifle  earlier)  he  came  to  the  office, 
and  spent  the  morning  there.  Generally  his  room 
was  filled  with  clients.  If  not,  he  was  busily  engaged 
in  preparing  his  cases  for  trial  or  argument ;  or,  if  no 
immediate  necessity  existed  for  this,  a  careful  exami 
nation  of  the  latest  text-books  and  reports  was  made, 
or  a  course  of  study,  already  marked  out,  pursued. 
He  was  rarely  idle  for  a  moment,  and  by  this  I  mean 
that  he  was  rarely  without  book  and  pen  in  hand.  He 
studied  pen  in  hand,  rarely  sitting  down  with  book 
alone.  He  had  an  old,  high,  pine  desk,  such  as  were 
in  lawyers'  offices  many  years  ago,  which  he  specially 
prized.  It  had  been  used  by  Judge  Prescott, —  the 
father  of  William  H.  Prescott,  —  in  Salem,  and  per 
haps  by  other  lawyers  before  him.  Upon  its  top  there 
was  a  row  of  pigeon-holes  for  papers.  A  tall  counting- 
house  chair,  with  the  front  legs  some  three  inches 
shorter  than  the  back  ones,  so  as  to  incline  the  seat 
forward,  enabled  him  to  keep  in  nearly  a  standing 


392  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

position  at  the  desk,  and  there,  and  in  that  position, 
come  upon  him  when  you  might,  he  was  to  be  found, 
pen  in  hand,  hard  at  work.  He  was  patient  of  inter 
ruption,  beyond  any  man  I  ever  met.  Unless  specially 
engaged  upon  matters  which  brooked  no  delay,  his 
time  and  learning  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  poorest 
and  most  ignorant.  It  was  very  rarely  indeed  that  I 
heard  him  say  to  any  one,  '  I  cannot  attend  to  you 
now.1  The  old  desk,  alluded  to,  I  succeeded  in  getting 
out  of  his  office ;  but  one  not  much  better  took  its 
place.  If  a  person  came  into  his  office  with  a  case, 
his  invariable  habit,  when  possible,  was  to  converse 
with  him  pen  in  hand,  and  write  down  every  particular 
bearing  upon  it.  If  the  case  involved  doubt,  as  soon 
as  the  client  had  gone,  he  made,  aut  per  se  aut  per 
alium,  a  strict  examination  of  the  law,  of  which  he 
made  a  careful  record.  He  may  be  said  to  have  studied 
all  his  cases  all  the  time.  He  never  seemed  to  have 
one  of  them  out  of  mind  for  an  instant.  If,  in  read 
ing  law,  or  any  thing  else,  diverse*  intuito,  any  thing 
occurred  which  could  be  useful  in  any  of  his  numerous 
cases,  down  it  went  upon  some  of  the  papers  —  Greek 
to  the  world,  but  clear  to  him.  And  this  leads  me  to 
say  that  in  all  the  apparent  confusion  of  his  papers, 
there  was  the  utmost  regularity,  after  his  kind.  He 
was  a  great  lover  of  order,  and  strove  hard  for  it,  but 
there  seemed  to  be  a  certain  mechanical  dexterity  of 
which  he  was  destitute.  I  think  it  would  h'ave  been 
impossible  for  him  to  fold  regularly  half  a  dozen  sheets 
of  paper.  His  papers  were  tied  together  in  a  confused 
mass  ;  but  they  were  all  there,  and  he  could  find  them. 
Untie  and  arrange  them  in  order,  and  he  liked  it ;  but 
the  first  time  the  parcel  was  re-opened  by  him  it  re- 


CHAP.  XI].  HABITS  IN  HIS  OFFICE.  393 

turned  to  its  original  condition.  But  this  was  want  of 
manual  dexterity  only.  He  was  ever  striving  to  have 
his  office  regular  and  orderly,  like  other  offices,  but 
without  effect.1 

"  For  a  year  or  so  after  going  in  with  him,  I  rarely 
saw  him  at  the  office  in  the  afternoon.  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  going  to  the  Athenaeum,  and  other  places 
where  books  were  to  be  found.  After  that  time,  he  was 
at  the  office  afternoon  as  well  as  forenoon,  unless  occu 
pied  in  the  law  outside.  His  cheerfulness  was  con 
stant  ;  and  he  never  appeared  in  greater  spirits  than 
when  every  thing  seemed  tangled  and  snarled  beyond 
extrication.  Little  things  sometimes  troubled  him  ; 
real  difficulties,  never.  He  did  and  wanted  every 
thing  done  on  the  instant ;  and  if  this  could  not  be 
brought  about,  he  would  often  seem  to  lose  all  interest 
in  it.  I  have  often  been  astonished  at  his  willingness 
to  perform  every  one's  work.  That  never  seemed  to 
trouble  him  ;  and  it  was  a  rare  thing  to  hear  him  com 
plain  of  others.  In  regard  to  his  court  engagements, 
he  was  promptitude  itself.  No  one  ever  knew  him  a 
minute  behind  time,  if  by  possibility  he  could  come  at 
all.  He  had  a  method  of  imparting  instruction,  pecu 
liar  to  a  race  of  legal  giants  now  passed  away,  by 
short,  pithy,  or  sarcastic  and  ironical  sentences.  You 
were  often  to  determine  his  meaning  rather  by  what 
he  did  not  say  than  from  what  he  did.  I  have  heard 
him  talk  an  hour  in  this  way  ;  and  if  one  had  taken  in 

1  He  was  entirely  aware  of  this  himself.  Speaking  once  of  the 
officer  known  to  the  English  Court  of  Common  Pleas  as  the  Filacer, 
or  Filazier,  so  called  because  he  files  those  writs  on  which  he  makes 
out  process,  he  playfully  remarked,  "  There  would  be  little  use  for 
such  a  person  in  our  office."  And  yet  he  generally  could  put  his  hand 
at  once  upon  what  he  wanted. 


394  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

sober  earnest  what  he  said  for  what  he  meant,  he 
would  have  made  a  slight  mistake.  The  gravest  law 
talk,  with  one  who  could  understand  him,  was  fun 
alive. 

"  With  his  vast  command  of  language,  he  delighted 
to  use  some  expressive  slang  phrase  in  familiar  con 
versation.  I  remember  one  that  tickled  him  hugely. 
A  man  in  the  office  told  him  a  story  of  some  fight  that 
he  was  a  witness  of ;  and  after  describing  it  graphically, 
said,  '  And  then  the  stones  flew  my  way,  and  I  duff.' 
He  never  could  resist  the  use  of  this  last  expression, 
and  never  used  it  without  laughing  heartily.  And 
this  reminds  me  that  I  rarely  —  I  may  say  never  — 
heard  him  laugh  out  loud.  He  would  throw  his  head 
back,  open  his  mouth  wide,  and  draw  in  his  breath 
with  a  deep  respiratory  sound,  while  his  whole  face 
glowed  with  fun. 

"  He  rarely  left  his  office  to  pass  a  half-hour  in 
another's,  except  on  business.  He  took  a  great  many 
papers  and  periodicals  at  the  office,  but  seldom  read 
one.  Sometimes  they  went  into  the  fire  in  the  origi 
nal  wrappers. 

"  Mr.  Choate's  method  of  preparing  his  cases  for 
trial  and  argument  depended  so  much  upon  the  vary 
ing  circumstances  of  the  cases,  that  it  is  very  difficult 
to  say  that  he  had  any  particular  plan.  But  this  al 
ways  was  his  practice,  when  he  had  time  for  it :  — 

"  If  for  the  plaintiff,  a  strict  examination  of  all  the 
pleadings,  if  the  case  had  been  commenced  by  others, 
was  immediately  made,  and,  so  far  as  practicable,  per 
sonal  examination  of  the  principal  witnesses,  —  accu 
rate  study  of  the  exact  questions  raised  by  the  plead 
ings,  and  a  thorough  and  exhaustive  preparation  of 


CHAP.  XL]  PREPARATION   OF   CASES.  395 

all  the  law  upon  those  questions.  This  preparation 
completed,  the  papers  were  laid  aside  until  the  day  of 
trial  approached.  At  that  time  a  thorough  re-exami 
nation  of  the  facts,  law,  and  pleadings  had  to  be  made. 
He  was  never  content  until  every  thing  which  might 
by  possibility  bear  upon  the  case  had  been  carefully 
investigated,  and  this  investigation  had  been  brought 
down  to  the  last  moment  before  the  trial. 

"  If  for  the  defence,  the  pleadings  were  first  exam 
ined  and  reconstructed,  if  in  his  judgment  necessary, 
and  as  careful  an  examination  of  the  law  made  as  in 
the  other  case. 

"  In  his  preparation  for  the  argument  of  a  question 
of  law,  he  could  never  be  said  to  have  finished  it  until 
the  judgment  had  been  entered  by  the  court.  It  com 
menced  with  the  knowledge  that  the  argument  was  to 
be  made ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  entry  of  the  judg 
ment,  the  case  never  seemed  to  be  out  of  his  mind ; 
and  whenever  and  wherever  a  thought  appropriate  to 
the  case  occurred  to  him,  it  was  noted  for  use.  It 
would  often  happen  that  the  case  was  nearly  reached 
for  argument  at  one  term  of  the  court ;  every  possible 
preparation  having  been  made  and  the  brief  printed ; 
yet  the  term  would  end  and  the  case  not  come  on. 
The  former  preparation  then  made  but  a  starting  point 
for  him.  At  the  next  term  a  fuller  brief  appeared ; 
and  this  might  happen  several  times.  The  finished 
brief  of  the  evening  had  to  be  altered  and  added  to  in 
the  morning ;  and  it  frequently  went  into  the  hands  of 
the  court  with  the  undried  ink  of  his  last  citations. 
If,  after  argument,  a  case  uncited  then  was  discovered, 
or  if  a  new  view  of  it  occurred  to  him,  the  court  was 
instantly  informed  of  it. 


396  MEMOIR  OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  XL 

"  And  so  in  the  trial  of  a  case  at  nisi  prim.  Every 
intermission  called  for  a  full  examination  of  every  law- 
book  which  could  possibly  bear  upon  questions  already 
before  the  court,  or  which  he  purposed  to  bring  before 
it.  No  difficulty  in  procuring  a  book  which  treated 
upon  the  question  before  him  ever  hindered  him  ;  it 
was  a  mere  question  of  possibility. 

"  He  had  a  plan  for  the  trial  of  every  case,  to  which 
he  clung  from  the  start,  and  to  which  every  thing  bent. 
That  plan  often  appeared  late  in  the  case,  perhaps  upon 
his  filing  his  prayer  to  the  court  for  special  rulings  to 
the  jury.  But  that  plan  was  at  any  time  —  no  matter 
how  much  labor  had  been  put  into  it  —  instantly  thrown 
over,  and  a  new  one  adopted,  if,  in  his  judgment,  it 
was  better.  He  bent  the  whole  case  to  his  theory  of 
the  law  of  it ;  and,  if  accidentally  a  new  fact  appeared 
which  would  enable  him  to  use  a  clearer  principle  of 
law,  the  last  from  that  moment  became  his  case.  I 
remember  perfectly  an  example  of  his  quickness  and 
boldness  in  this  respect.  In  an  insurance  case,  we 
were  for  the  plaintiff.  A  vessel  had  been  insured  for 
a  year,  with  a  warranty  that  she  should  not  go  north 
of  the  Okhotsk  Sea.  Within  the  year  she  was  burned 
north  of  the  limits  of  the  Okhotsk  Sea  proper,  but 
south  of  the  extreme  limits  of  some  of  that  sea's  ad 
jacent  gulfs.  The  defendant  set  up  that  there  was  no 
loss  within  the  limits  of  the  policy ;  and  numerous 
witnesses  had  been  summoned  by  both  parties,  —  on 
our  side  to  show  that  by  merchants  the  Okhotsk  Sea 
was  considered  to  include  the  bays  and  gulfs  ;  on  the 
other  side,  to  prove  the  contrary.  A  protracted  trial 
was  expected,  and  every  thing  had  been  prepared.  As 
we  were  walking  to  the  court-house,  he  said,  4  Why 


CHAP.  XI]  PREPARATION  OF    CASES.  397 

should  we  prove  that  we  were  not  north  of  that  sea  ? 
-  why  not  let  them  prove  that  we  were  ?  What  do 
you  think  of  it?' — 4  It  seems  to  be  the  right  way, 
certainly,'  said  I.  '  Let  us  do  it,  —  open  the  case  on 
that  idea.'  I  did  so,  and  put  on  the  mate  to  prove  the 
burning  at  a  certain  time  within  the  year.  No  cross- 
examination  followed,  and  we  rested  our  case.  The 
other  side  were  dumbfounded.  They  had  expected  that 
we  should  be  at  least  two  days  putting  in  our  case  on 
the  other  theory,  and  had  no  witnesses  at  hand.  They 
fought  our  plan  stoutly ;  but  the  court  was  with  us, 
and  they  were  obliged  to  submit  to  a  verdict  in  our 
favor.  The  case  lasted  one  Jwur. 

"  In  many  cases  I  have  known  him  to  dismiss  wit 
nesses  that  had  been  summoned  for  proof  of  particular 
facts,  because  he  had  changed  his  plan,  and  would  not 
require  them. 

"  One  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  Mr. 
Choate  was  the  tenacity  with  which  he  persisted  in 
trying  a  case  once  commenced,  under  no  matter  what 
disadvantages.  If  a  case  seemed  untenable,  and  in 
deed  always  before  suit,  he  was  very  willing  to  settle. 
Divorce  cases  and  family  disturbances,  and  suits  be 
tween  friends,  he  strained  every  nerve  to  adjust  before 
they  became  public,  and  even  after.  But  when  a  case 
was  fairly  before  the  court,  he  seemed  absolutely  to 
hate  the  idea  of  a  compromise,  and  never  felt  the  case 
lost  so  long  as  there  was  standing  in  court.  No  matter 
how  hopeless  seemed  the  chance  of  success,  he  would 
say,  4  It  will  never  do  to  say  die,'  and  plunge  boldly 
into  the  trial.  And  it  was  astonishing  to  find  him  so 
often  successful  where  there  seemed  no  hope.  While 
a  trial  was  going  on  in  court,  every  word  of  every  wit- 


398  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.          [CHAP.  XL 

ness  was  taken  down,  and  every  legal  incident  noted. 
This  was  taken  home,  and  before  the  court  opened  the 
next  day,  arranged  and  studied,  and  his  argument 
commenced  and  kept  along  with  the  days  of  trial,  often 
changed  and  re-written.  He  kept  loose  paper  by  him  in 
court,  on  which  were  jotted  down  questions  for  wit 
nesses,  and  ideas  of  all  kinds  connected  with  the  case.". 

As  might  be  inferred  from  this,  his  notes  were  gen 
erally  very  ample  and  complete.  To  a  student  who 
was  going  to  take  the  depositions  of  some  witnesses 
where  he  could  not  be  present,  he  said,  "  Take  down 
every  adjective,  adverb,  and  interjection  that  the  wit 
nesses  utter."  His  brief,  too,  was  always  full,  though 
in  addressing  a  jury  he  was  entirely  untrammelled, 
and  often  hardly  referred  to  it.  In  addressing  the 
court  he  sometimes  seemed  to  follow  his  notes  closely, 
almost  as  if  he  were  repeating  them,  laying  aside  page 
after  page  as  he  proceeded. 

In  determining  the  theory  of  his  case,  he  was  never 
satisfied  until  he  had  met  every  supposition  that  could 
be  brought  against  it.  But  he  had  no  love  for  a  theory 
because  it  was  his  own,  however  great  the  labor  it  had 
cost  him,  but  was  perfectly  ready  to  throw  it  aside  for 
another,  when  that  appeared  better.  This  change  of 
front  he  sometimes  made  in  the  midst  of  the  trial, 
under  the  eye  of  the  court,  and  in  the  face  of  a  watch 
ful  and  eager  antagonist.  He  was  never  more  self- 
possessed,  nor  seemed  to  have  his  entire  faculties  more 
fully  at  command,  nor  to  exercise  a  more  consummate 
judgment,  than  when  in  the  very  heat  of  a  strongly 
contested  case,  where  a  mistake  would  have  been  fatal. 
In  the  preparation  of  a  case  he  left  nothing  to  chance ; 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS   MANNER  IN   COURT.  399 

and  his  juniors  sometimes  found  themselves  urged  to  a 
fidelity  and  constancy  of  labor  to  which  they  had  not 
been  accustomed. 

In  his  cases,  it  was  not  the  magnitude  of  the  interests 
involved,  and  certainly  not  the  hope  of  fame  or  of  pe 
cuniary  reward,  that  seemed  to  move  him,  so  much  as 
a  certain  inward  impulse,  a  spirit  and  fire  whose  ener 
gy  was  untiring  and  resistless.  The  action  of  his  mind 
was  its  own  reward.  He  was  like  a  blood  horse.  Once 
on  the  course,  the  nervous  force  was  uncontrollable 
whether  thousands  were  at  stake  or  it  was  a  mere 
movement  for  pleasure.  Hence  into  cases  of  compara 
tively  little  consequence,  before  referees,  or  a  commis 
sioner,  or  a  judge  in  chambers,  with  no  audience  to 
stimulate  him,  he  threw  the  whole  force  and  brilliancy 
of  his  powers.  Nothing  less  would  satisfy  himself, 
however  it  might  be  with  court  or  client. 

"  One  of  the  last  times  I  heard  him,"  says  his  honor 
Chief  Justice  Chapman,  "  was  in  a  matter  relating  to 
the  railroad  crossings  and  depots  in  the  northern  part 
of  Boston.  It  was  before  commissioners,  in  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  Boston  and  Maine  depot,  with  the  oppos 
ing  counsel  and  two  or  three  officers  of  railroad  corpo 
rations  present ;  and  he  displayed  on  that  occasion  some 
of  the  richest  and  most  beautiful  specimens  of  his  ora 
tory.  It  would  have  charmed  a  popular  audience." 

In  intercourse  with  junior  counsel,  no  one  could  be 
more  unselfish  and  generous.  He  assumed  their  diffi 
culties,  protected  them  if  necessary,  often  insisting  to 
the  client  that  the  junior  was  fully  equal  to  the  case, 
and  after  the  case  was  won  yielding  to  him  a  full  share 
of  the  honor. 

"  He  was  the  best  senior  counsel,"  said  an  eminent 


400  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [CHAP.  XI. 

lawyer,1  "  that  ever  lived.  Other  men  almost  always 
make  you  feel  that  you  are  second ;  he  so  made  sug 
gestions  that  you  seemed  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
your  own  motion.  If  you  came  to  him  with  a  proposi 
tion  which  could  not  be  sustained,  instead  of  saying, 
<  That's  not  the  law,'  he  would  begin  by  asking  you 
questions,  or  by  making  statements  to  which  you  at 
once  assented,  till  he  led  you  round  to  a  point  just  the 
opposite  of  that  from  which  you  started." 

"  How  often  I  think  of  Choate !  "  writes  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  the  younger  members  of  the  bar, 
a  few  months  after  his  death.  "  You  do  not  know 
what  a  hold  he  had  on  me,  or  rather  what  a  necessity 
of  life  he  had  become  to  me.  When  I  have  seen  any 
thing  peculiar  in  the  development  of  human  nature,  of 
social  or  political  systems,  I  have  thought,  '  I  will  tell 
that  to  Choate  '  —  and  then,  —  Is  he  indeed  dead? 
gone  —  never  to  be  seen,  or  heard,  or  conversed  with 
again  ?  All  that  wisdom  and  wit,  —  that  kindness  to 
me,  as  of  a  father  or  elder  brother?  Is  it  possible?  I 
tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  if  I  pass  the  rest  of  my  life  at 
the  Boston  Bar,  —  life  will  be  a  different  thing  to  me 
without  Choate." 

Never  assuming  pre-eminence,  or  standing  upon  his 
dignity,  he  was  on  the  kindest  and  most  familiar  terms 
with  his  brethren  at  the  bar.  The  morning  after  his 
letter  to  the  Whigs  of  Maine  appeared  in  the  news 
papers,  a  brother-lawyer  —  a  Democrat  —  suddenly 
opened  the  door  of  his  office,  and  saluted  him  with  the 
question:  "  Well,  Mr.  Choate,  how  was  it,  —  money 
down,  or  bond  and  mortgage  ? "  No  one  relished  such 
a  sally  more  than  he. 

1  Mr.  Justice  Lord. 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS  MANNER  IN   COURT.  401 

It  did  not  disturb  him  to  interrupt  him.  When  you 
came  into  his  office,  he  would  turn  from  his  papers 
with  some  joke,  a  cant  phrase  or  word  (such  as  "  flab 
bergasted"),  recreate  himself  by  some  witty  speech, 
quiz  you  a  little  playfully,  and  then  turn  back  again  to 
his  work. 

During  the  progress  of  a  trial,  though  intently  watch 
ful  of  all  the  procedings,  he  was  abounding  in  good 
nature  and  courtesy.  "  If  his  wit  and  pleasantry  in 
the  court-room,"  said  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  his 
profession,  "  could  be  gathered  up,  they  would  be  un 
surpassed  in  all  the  annals  of  the  law."  His  addresses 
to  the  jury  were  singularly  impassioned;  every  muscle 
of  his  frame  quivered  with  emotion ;  the  perspiration 
stood  in  drops  even  upon  the  hair  of  his  head.1  Yet 
he  was  always  dignified  and  conciliatory,  as  if  speaking 
to  friends.  To  witnesses  lie  was  unfailingly  courteous, 
seldom  severe  even  with  the  most  reluctant,  but  draw 
ing  from  them  the  evidence  by  the  skill  of  his  exami 
nation.  In  cross-examining,  he  knew  by  instinct  when 
a  witness  testified  to  what  he  knew,  or  only  what  he 
thought  he  knew.  To  the  latter  point  he  always  di 
rected  his  inquiries  so  as  to  bring  out  the  exact  state 
of  the  case.  To  the  Bench  he  was  remarkable  for 
deference  in  manner,  and  quietness,  felicity  and  pre 
cision  in  language.  I  happened  once  to  go  into  the 
Supreme  Court-room,  when  not  more  than  a  dozen  per 
sons  were  present,  and  many  of  them  officials,  but  all 
the  judges  were  upon  the  bench,  and  Mr.  Choate  was 
standing  at  a  table  before  them,  arguing  a  question  of 

1  Always  after  speaking  he  was  obliged  to  wrap  himself  up  in  two 
or  three  overcoats  to  prevent  taking  cold,  and  almost  always  after  a 
strong  effort  suffered  from  an  attack  of  sick-headache. 

26 


402  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.        [CHAP.  XI. 

law.  He  stood  erect  and  quiet,  made  no  gesture  ex 
cept  a  slight  movement  of  the  right  hand  from  the 
wrist,  nor  changed  his  position  except  when  necessary 
to  obtain  a  book  for  an  authority,  but  spoke  for  more 
than  an  hour  in  a  low,  clear,  musical  voice,  with  a  fe 
licity  of  language,  a  logical  precision,  a  succinctness  of 
statement,  a  constantly  expanding  and  advancing 
movement  of  thought,  and  a  gentle,  slightly  exhilarat 
ing  warmth  of  feeling,  which  I  never  heard  equalled, 
and  which  was  even  more  fascinating  than  his  appeals 
to  the  jury.  His  motions  and  gestures  were,  as  I  have 
said,  vehement,  but  not  affected  nor  ungraceful.  They 
were  a  part  of  himself,  one  with  his  style  and  method. 
The  sweep  of  his  arm,  the  tremulous  hand,  the  rising 
and  settling  of  his  body,  the  dignified  tread,  the  fasci 
nating  eye,  the  tone,  gentle,  musical,  persuasive,  vehe 
ment,  ringing,  never  querulous,  never  bitter  —  all 
sprang  from  the  nature  of  the  man,  spontaneous  and 
irrepressible.  Never  was  there  a  speaker  less  artificial. 
Mr.  Choate's  knowledge  of  his  profession  never  grew 
more  rapidly  and  more  solidly  than  during  the  last 
ten  years  of  his  life.  In  the  midst  of  ever-increasing 
labors,  he  found  time  for  constant  and  careful  study  of 
the  science  of  the  law.  On  the  appearance  of  a  new 
volume  of  the  Massachusetts  Reports,  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  take  every  important  case  on  which  he  had 
not  been  employed,  make  a  full  brief  upon  each  side, 
draw  up  a  judgment,  and,  finally,  compare  his  work 
with  the  briefs  and  judgments  reported.  This  was  a 
settled  habit  for  many  years  before  he  died.  To  say 
that  he  had  a  high  sense  of  professional  honor,  would 
only  ascribe  to  him  a  virtue  that  is  not  rare  in  the 
American  Bar;  yet  few,  perhaps,  have  had  a  clearer 


CHAP.  XL]  CHARGES  AND  INCOME.  403 

or  more  refined  and  delicate  apprehension  of  the  pro 
prieties  and  ethics  of  the  profession.  He  held  an 
exalted  idea  of  the  office  and  duties  of  an  advocate. 
"  The  order  of  advocates  is  as  ancient  as  the  office  of 
the  judge,  as  noble  as  virtue,  and  as  necessary  as  jus 
tice."  So  wrote  the  great  jurist  of  France,  D'Agues- 
seau;  and  so  have  ever  felt  the  wisest  and  most  upright 
judges  of  law  and  equity. 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  career,  he  was  more  re. 
luctant  to  undertake  doubtful  criminal  cases.  Though 
accepting  every  clear  duty  of  his  profession,  he  held 
himself  more  in  reserve.  This  was  partly  because  of 
his  constant  and  intense  occupation,  partly  because  his 
tastes  led  him  to  other  branches  of  the  profession,  and 
in  part,  perhaps,  because  he  had  to  contend  against  his 
own  fame,  and  instinctively  shrunk  from  annoying  and 
vulgar  criticism.  When  solicited  to  defend  Dr.  Web 
ster,  he  argued  with  the  friend  who  consulted  him,  that 
it  would  be  really  better  for  the  accused  to  have  other 
counsel. 

Up  to  the  year  1849,  notwithstanding  his  large  busi 
ness,  Mr.  Choate  had  been  too  careless,  both  in  charges 
and  in  collections,  to  realize  an  adequate  return  for  his 
services.  He  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  the  only  person 
who  placed  a  low  estimate  upon  the  value  of  his  own 
labors.  The  client  almost  determined  for  himself  what 
he  should  pay,  and  several  cases  actually  occurred 
where  the  advocate  rated  his  services  so  ridiculously 
low  that  the  client  would  not  be  satisfied  until  the 
charges  were  doubled.  The  amount  of  the  fee  never 
affected  Mr.  Choate's  willingness  to  take  a  case,  or  the 
earnestness  with  which  he  threw  himself  into  it.  It 
was  the  case,  and  not  the  reward,  which  stimulated  his 
mind. 


404  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS    CHOATE.          [Cnxr.  XI. 

On  first  opening  his  office  lie  kept  no  book  of  ac 
counts.  Being,  however,  at  one  time,  apparently, 
struck  with  a  sudden  fit  of  economy,  he  obtained  a 
proper  book,  and  entered,  as  the  first  item  of  an  orderly 
expenditure,  the  office  debtor  to  one  quart  of  oil,  37  J 
cents.  The  next  entry  was  six  months  later,  and 
closed  the  record. 

He  was  generous  to  a  fault.  Whoever  asked  re 
ceived.  Any  one,  almost  literally  any  one,  could  draw 
from  him  five  or  ten  dollars  ;  and  his  office  was  some 
times  quite  besieged  with  solicitors  of  charity.  To 
some  objects  he  gave  regularly.  Among  these  was  a 
very  worthy  man,  but  indigent,  and  a  confirmed  in 
valid.  "  On  one  occasion,"  says  the  gentleman  who 
often  acted  as  the  almoner  of  his  bounty,  "  he  requested 
me  to  call  at  his  office  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 
After  making  the  usual  inquiries  about  our  friend  and 
his  sufferings,  and  expressing  his  sympathy,  he  said : 
*  I  believe  I  have  been  neglectful  of  his  wants  for  a  year 
or  two  past.'  Then,  with  one  of  his  nervous  shudders, 
he  seized  his  pen  and  filled  out  a  check  for  fifty  dollars  ; 
and  he  would  not  make  the  least  abatement,  though  I 
assured  him  our  friend  did  not  stand  in  any  present 
need  of  such  a  munificent  donation." 

Many  came  to  borrow  of  him,  and  almost  always 
successfully,  if  he  were  not  himself  pressed  for  money. 
Of  these  he  frequently  took  neither  note  nor  obligation 
of  any  sort  in  return,  and  the  transactions  were  fre 
quently  forgotten.  When  asked  why  he  did  not  try  to 
collect  of  his  borrowers,  "  Ah,"  he  replied,  "  many  of 
them  are  cologne  bottles  without  any  stoppers." 

He  was,  indeed,  most  indifferent  to  money  ;  careless 
of  keeping  it,  and  losing,  without  question,  thousands 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  GENEROSITY.  405 

of  dollars  every  year  from  neglecting  to  make  any 
charge  at  all  for  his  services.  "  I  remember,"  says  a 
gentleman  who  studied  with  him,  "  that  one  morning 
he  came  rushing  into  his  office  for  $500,  remarking, 
in  his  sportive  way,  '  My  kingdom  for  $500 ;  have  I  got 
it  ? '  He  went  to  his  blue  bank-book,  looked  at  it,  and 
said,  i  Not  a  dollar,  not  a  dollar,'  and  was  going  out, 
either  to  borrow  or  collect,  when  I  stopped  him.  The 
old  book  had  been  filled,  and  the  teller  had  given  him 
a  new  one  without  entering  in  it  the  amount  to  his 
credit,  the  month  not  being  ended  when  the  accounts 
were  usually  balanced.  I  showed  him  the  old  book, 
and  there  was  a  balance  in  his  favor  of  $1,200.  He 
looked  surprised,  and  said,  '  Thank  God.'  But  if  the 
$1,200  had  disappeared,  he  never  would  have  been  the 
wiser." 

It  could  be  no  surprise,  then,  to  those  who  knew  his 
habit,  that  in  his  early  career  he  accumulated  very 
little  property.  For  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life, 
through  the  care  of  his  partner,  his  affairs  were  man 
aged  with  more  method,  and  with  growing  prosperity. 
Even  then,  however,  when  it  became  necessary  for  Mr. 
Choate  himself  to  fix  the  scale  of  his  remuneration,  it 
fell  about  to  the  old  standard,  until  his  junior  learned 
to  regulate  the  amount  of  their  charges  by  those  of  the 
eminent  counsel  to  whom  they  were  generally  opposed. 

The  average  annual  receipts  of  his  office  for  the 
eleven  years  from  1849  to  1859,  inclusive,  were  nearly 
$18,000.  The  largest  receipts  were  in  1852,  when 
they  amounted  to  more  than  $20,000  ;  in  1855,  when 
they  were  nearly  $21,000  ;  and  1856,  when  they  some 
what  exceeded  $22,000.  In  only  one  year  of  the  eleven 
did  they  fall  below  $13,000.  The  largest  fee  Mr. 


406  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  XI. 

Choate  ever  received  was  82,500.  An  equal  one  was 
given,  so  far  as  is  known,  on  but  four  occasions.  A 
fee  of  from  $1,500  to  82,000  was  more  frequent;  and  he 
once  received  a  retaining  fee  of  $1,500.  During  these 
eleven  years  his  engagements  in  actual  trials,  law 
arguments,  and  arguments  before  the  legislature, 
amounted  to  a  yearly  average  of  nearly  seventy. 

Always  free  of  his  services,  there  was  one  which, 
however  great  or  costly  to  himself,  was  always  rendered 
without  charge.  I  refer  to  his  exertions  in  political 
contests.  He  was  frequently  importuned  to  receive 
compensation,  as  the  labor  was  frequently  most  weari 
some  and  exhaustive.  But  as  a  matter  of  character, 
and  to  keep  himself  pure  from  the  semblance  of  stain, 
and  broad  and  independent  in  his  public  course,  he 
uniformly  refused.  He  prided  himself  on  his  honor 
and  purity  in  his  relations  to  the  State. 

When  approaching  the  argument  of  a  great  cause,  or 
the  delivery  of  an  important  speech,  his  mind  was  ab 
solutely  absorbed  with  it.  The  lights  were  left  burning 
all  night  in  his  library,  and  after  retiring  he  would 
frequently  rise  from  his  bed,  and,  without  dressing, 
rush  to  his  desk  to  note  rapidly  some  thought  which 
flashed  across  his  wakeful  mind.  This  was  repeated 
sometimes  ten  or  fifteen  times  in  a  night.  Being  once 
engaged  in  the  trial  of  an  important  case  in  an  inland 
county  of  Massachusetts,  his  room  at  the  tavern  hap 
pened  to  open  into  that  of  the  opposing  counsel,  who, 
waking  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  was  surprised 
to  see  a  bright  light  gleaming  under  and  around  the 
loosely  fitting  door.  Supposing  that  Mr.  Choate,  who 
had  retired  early,  might  have  been  taken  suddenly  ill, 
he  entered  his  room  and  found  him  dressed  and  stand- 


CHAP.  XI.]  MANNER  TO  A  JURY.  407 

ing  before  a  small  table  which  he  had  placed  upon 
chairs,  with  four  candles  upon  it,  vigorously  writing. 
Apologies  and  explanations  at  once  followed,  Mr. 
Choate  saying  that  he  was  wakeful,  had  slept  enough, 
and  the  expected  contest  of  the  morrow  stimulated  him 
to  every  possible  preparation. 

Every  important  and  difficult  cause  took  such  pos 
session  of  him  that  he  would  get  no  sound  sleep  till  it 
was  finished.  His  mind,  to  use  his  own  illustration, 
became  a  stream  that  took  up  the  cause,  like  a  ship, 
and  bore  it  on  night  and  day  till  the  verdict  or  judg 
ment  was  reached.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that  he 
came  from  a  trial  so  much  exhausted.  Almost  every 
considerable  case  was  attended  or  followed  with  a  se 
vere  attack  of  sick-headache.  But  his  recuperative 
power  was  as  wonderful  as  his  capacity  for  work.  A 
friend  once  asked  how  long  it  took  him  to  recover  from 
the  wear  of  a  heavy  case,  and  how  long  to  enter  into  a 
new  case  with  full  force.  He  said,  that  often  three  or 
four  hours  were  enough  to  recover  in,  and  almost 
always  a  day.  As  to  getting  into  a  case,  he  said,  that 
the  moment  his  eye-  struck  a  book,  or  legal  paper,  the 
subject  lifted  him,  and  that  five  minutes  were  sufficient 
to  give  him  full  power  for  work  and  command  of  his 
faculties.  He  was  then  in  full  sail. 

Although  so  familiar  with  the  courts,  and  always 
master  of  himself,  he  was  often  filled  with  a  nervous 
agitation  when  approaching  the  argument,  sometimes 
saying  that  he  "  should  certainly  break  down  ;  every 
man  must  fail  at  some  time,  and  his  hour  had  come." 
However  deeply  absorbed  in  the  cause  before  him,  he 
seemed  to  see  every  thing  that  was  going  on  in  the 
court-room.  As  he  was  once  addressing  a  jury,  a 


408  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS    CHOATE.         [CHAP.  XI. 

woman  in  a  distant  part  of  the  court-room  rose  and 
went  out,  with  some  rustling  of  silk.  Being  asked 
afterwards  if  he  noticed  it,  "  Noticed  it ! "  he  said, 
"  I  thought  forty  battalions  were  moving." 

With  a  vocabulary  so  rich,  and  a  fancy  so  lively,  it 
is  not  surprising  that  he  sometimes  gave  license  to  his 
powers,  and  now  and  then  "  drove  a  substantive  and 
six,"  but  no  one  could  at  will  be  more  exact,  or  more 
felicitously  combine  the  utmost  precision  with  the  most 
delicious  music  of  words.  Ever  alive  to  the  ludicrous, 
he  often  dexterously  caught  up  cant  phrases,  or  popu 
lar  terms  of  the  day,  and  eviscerating  them  of  every 
thing  like  vulgarity,  forced  them  for  a  moment  into  his 
service  —  all  redolent  of  the  novel  odors  of  the  field, 
the  market,  or  the  fireside,  where  they  had  their  birth 
—  and  then  dismissed  them  for  ever. 

"  His  wit,"  says  one  who  knew  him  well,  "  was  of 
the  most  delightful  kind,  playful  and  pungent,  and  his 
conversation  was  full  of  the  aptest  quotation,  always, 
however  parce  detorta,  so  as  to  take  off  any  possible 
tinge  of  pedantry,  and  generally  witli  a  more  or  less 
ludicrous  application.  He  was  fond  of  bringing  out 
the  etymology  of  words  in  his  use  of  them,  as,  for  ex 
ample,  when  speaking  of  a  disappointed  candidate  for 
an  important  nomination,  he  said,  the  convention 
"  ejaculated  him  out  at  the  window ;"  and  of  new  and 
odd  applications  of  their  figurative  meanings,  as  when 
he  said  of  a  very  ugly  artist  who  had  produced  a  too 

faithful   representation  of  himself,  "  Mr.  has 

painted  his  own  portrait  and  it  is  &  flagrant  likeness." 

His  wit  and  humor  were  fresh  and  peculiar ;  seldom 
provoking  loud  laughter,  but  perpetually  feeding  the 
mind  with  delight.  He  never  prepared  nor  reserved 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS  WIT  AND  HUMOR.  409 

his  good  things  for  a  grand  occasion,  and  to  those  who 
knew  him  best  was  as  full  of  surprises  as  to  a  stranger. 
In  the  little  office  of  a  justice  of  the  peace,  —  in  a  re 
tired  room  of  a  railroad  depot,  in  presence  of  a  few  in 
terested  members  of  the  corporation,  —  before  two  or 
three  sensible,  but  not  brilliant,  referees  in  the  hall  of 
a  country  tavern,  he  displayed  nearly  the  same  abun 
dance  of  learning,  the  same  exuberance  of  language, 
and  felicity  of  allusion,  the  same  playfulness  and  beau 
ty,  as  when  he  spoke  before  the  most  learned  bench,  or 
the  elegant  and  cultivated  assemblies  of  Boston.  This 
might  seem  like  a  reckless  expenditure  of  unnecessary 
wealth.  In  one  sense,  perhaps,  it  was  so ;  yet  he  had 
a  marvellous  faculty  of  adaptation,  as  well  as  the  higher 
power  of  drawing  all  to  himself,  and  I  doubt  if  anybody 
ever  listened  to  him  with  greater  delight  and  admira 
tion  than  plain,  substantial  yeomen  who  might  not  be 
able  to  understand  one  in  a  hundred  of  his  allusions. 
They  understood  quite  enough  to  delight  and  convince 
them,  as  well  as  to  afford  food  for  much  laughter,  and, 
if  they  chose,  for  much  meditation. 

The  sweetness  of  his  temper  so  pervaded  and  con 
trolled  every  thing  that  he  said,  that  although  peculi 
arities  of  character,  or  circumstances,  or  manner,  or 
appearance,  sometimes  drew  down  the  flash  of  his 
pleasantry,  as  the  unguarded  spire  the  lightning  from 
the  surcharged  cloud,  it  was  a  harmless  bolt,  unless 
(which  was  very  rarely  the  case),  he  was  provoked  by 
injustice  or  harshness  to  give  proof  of  his  power.  Say 
ings  of  his,  innumerable,  have  been  current  among  the 
members  of  the  bar,  but  I  never  heard  of  a  man  who 
felt  aggrieved  by  any  of  them.  His  regard  for  Chief 
Justice  Shaw  amounted  to  veneration.  "  With  what 


410  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

judge,"  he  once,  in  substance,  said,  "  can  you  see 
your  antagonist  freely  conversing,  without  the  slightest 
apprehension,  as  you  can  with  him  ?  "  Looking  once 
at  an  engraving  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  "  A  very  great 
judge,"  he  said,  "  but  not  greater,  I  think,  than  the 
Chief,"  as  Judge  Shaw  was  familiarly  called.  An 
eminent  lawyer,  engaged  with  him  in  a  case,  was  once 
rising  to  contest  what  seemed  an  unfavorable,  if  not 
an  unfair,  ruling.  Mr.  Choate'drew  him  back  and 
whispered  in  his  ear,  "  Let  it  go.  Sit  down.  Life, 
liberty,  and  property  are  always  safe  in  his  hands." 
One  anecdote  has  been  often  told  incorrectly,  and  so'  as 
to  convey  a  wrong  impression,  which  I  am  able  to  give 
in  the  words  of  an  eminent  lawyer,  who  was  himself 
an  actor  in  the  scene.  "  It  was  in  the  East  Cambridge 
court-house,  at  the  law  term.  The  full  Bench  were 
present ;  a  tedious  argument  had  been  dragging  its 
weary  length  along  for  an  hour -or  two;  the  session 
had  lasted  several  hours,  and  the  Chief  Justice  had 
yielded  for  a  moment  to  drowsiness,  —  being  no  more 
than  mortal.  Mr.  Choate  and  I  were  sitting  in  the 
bar,  being  concerned  in  the  next  case.  As  I  looked 
up  at  the  Bench,  the  large  head  of  the  Chief  Justice 
presented  itself  settled  down  upon  his  breast  about  as 
far  as  it  could  go,  his  eyes  closed,  his  hair  shaggy  and 
disordered,  having  on  a  pair  of  large  black  spectacles 
which  had  slid  down  to  the  very  tip  of  his  nose,  and 
his  face  seeming  to  have  discharged,  for  the  time,  every 
trace  of  intelligence, 

'  QfCUTJC  K€  {JUKOTOV  TE    TIV*   Cft/UCVai,    U<ppOVU  T'   CLVTUf.'  * 

I  looked,  and  then  looked  at  Mr.  Choate,  whose  eyes 
had  followed  mine,  and  then  said  to  him,  '  that  not- 

i  Iliad,  III.  220. 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS  WIT  AND  HUMOR.  411 

withstanding  the  curious  spectacle  he  sometimes  fur 
nished  us,  I  could  never  look  at  the  Chief  Justice 
without  reverence.7  i  Nor  can  I,'  he  replied.  <  When 
you  consider  for  how  many  years,  and  with  what 
strength  and  wisdom  he  has  administered  the  law, — 
how  steady  he  has  kept  every  thing,  —  how  much  we 
owe  to  his  weight  of  character,  —  I  confess  I  regard 
him  as  the  Indian  does  his  wooden  log,  curiously 
carved ;  I  acknowledge  he's  ugly,  but  I  bow  before  a 
superior  intelligence  ! '  You  can  imagine  the  twinkle 
of  the  eye,  and  the  parenthetical  tone  with  which  the 
i  I  acknowledge  he's  ugly'  came  in.  I  hope  you  will 
be  able  to  get  together  many  of  Mr.  Choate's  felicities  ; 
they  must  abound  in  all  memories." 

As  an  instance  of  his  pleasant  way  of  announcing 
what  might  seem  to  be  an  ordinary  fact,  a  member  of 
the  Massachusetts  Bar l  writes  :  "  While  a  student  in 
the  office  of  the  late  Benjamin  F.  Hallett,  of  Boston,  I 
went  into  the  Law  Library  to  deliver  some  message  to 
him.  I  found  him  engaged  in  preparing  his  points  in 
a  cause  that  was  then  about  to  be  heard  at  a  law  term 
of  the  Supreme  Court.  Mr.  Choate  was  in  the  case 
then  being  heard ;  Mr.  Hallett's  being  the  next  in 
order.  When  Mr.  Choate's  cause  was  finished,  he 
notified  Mr.  Hallett — just  putting  his  head  inside  the 
door  —  in  these  words  :  »'  Mr.  Hallett,  there  is  nothing 
now  between  you  and  that  justice  which  you  seek.' 
The  manner  in  which  this  was  said  was  so  happy,  his 
voice  so  musical,  that  it  made  an  impression  upon  my 
mind  I  shall  never  forget." 

His  pleasantry  was  exuberant  and  unfailing,  in 
defeat  as  well  as  in  victory.  It  was  a  safeguard  against 

1  Charles  P.  Thompson,  Esq.,  of  Gloucester. 


412  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [Cnxp.  XL 

depression  and  discouragement.  Receiving,  one  morn 
ing,  a  note  from  a  gentleman  engaged  with  him  in  a 
cause  at  Washington,  informing  him  that  the  Court 
had  decided  against  them,  he  at  once  wrote  back :  — 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  The  Court  has  lost  its  little  wits.  Please 
let  me  have — 1.  Our  brief  (for  the  law).  2.  The  defend 
ant's  brief  (for  the  sophistry).  3.  The  opinion  (for  the 
foolishness),  and  never  say  die.  R.  C." 

He  was  rather  fond  of  talking  of  his  contemporaries, 
but  rarely  spoke  of  any  of  them  otherwise  than  kindly 
and  favorably,  —  lingering  upon  their  merits,  and 
passing  over  their  failings.  Occasionally,  after  speak 
ing  of  others,  he  would  refer  to  himself  in  the  same 
connection.  Conversing  one  day  with  a  young  friend 
about  Mr.  Franklin  Dexter,  then  just  deceased,  he 
eulogized  him  as  a  most  able,  faithful,  and  conscien 
tious  prosecuting  officer,  who  never  pressed  an  indict 
ment  for  the  sake  of  victory,  nor  unless  he  believed 
that  a  verdict  against  the  accused  would  fulfil  the 
highest  ends  of  justice.  He  then  proceeded  to  speak 
in  general  terms  of  the  responsibility  of  a  public  pros 
ecutor,  and  of  his  own  deep  sense  of  this  responsibility 
while  Attorney-General.  He  was  solemn  and  earnest, 
and  left  a  profound  impression  that  never  while  hold 
ing  that  office  was  he  entirely  free  from  anxiety  that 
nothing  should  be  done  by  him,  or  through  his  means, 
by  which  a  possibly  innocent  prisoner  should  lose  his 
legal  chances  of  acquittal. 

When  talking  with  a  client,  respecting  a  defence, 
his  rule  was,  never  to  ask  him  whether  he  did  the  act ; 
yet  he  was  very  watchful  for  signs  of  innocence  or 
guilt.  After  an  interview  with  a  person  who  consulted 


CHAP.  XL]  ANECDOTES.  413 

him  as  to  a  disgraceful  imputation  under  which  he  was 
laboring,  he  remarked,  "  He  did  it,  he  sweats  so." 

Although  one  could  hardly  converse  with  Mr.  Choate 
for  five  minutes  without  hearing  some  remark  striking 
for  its  beauty,  or  novelty,  or  humor,  yet  few  of  these 
sayings  have  been  recorded,  and  in  most  cases,  where 
the  thought  has  remained,  the  rare  felicity  of  language 
which  graced  it  has  escaped  the  memory,  and  the 
strange,  indescribable  fascination  of  manner  with  which 
it  was  accompanied  no  one  can  reproduce.  Any  one 
who  has  a  fresh  recollection  of  the  impression  pro 
duced  at  the  time  by  some  sudden  flash  of  his  mind, 
will  be  the  more  reluctant  to  repeat  what  invariably 
loses  in  the  process.  I  have  been  able  to  gather  up 
but  a  few  of  these  unpremeditated  sayings.  Those 
who  knew  Mr.  Ghoate  must  supply  for  themselves  the 
tone  and  manner. 

The  qualifications  of  a  certain  office-holder  being 
discussed  in  his  presence,  Mr.  Choate  said,  "  Yes,  Sir, 
you  may  sum  them  up  by  asserting  that  he  is  self- 
sufficient,  all-sufficient,  and  ^sufficient." 

A  copy  of  the  "  Poetry  of  the  East,"  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Alger,  had  been  sent  to  him.  Meeting  the  author  at  a 
party  soon  after,  he  remarked  to  him,  "  I  examined 
your  i  Poetry  of  the  East '  with  a  great  deal  of  in 
terest.  The  Orientals  seem  to  be  amply  competent 
to  metaphysics,  wonderfully  competent  to  poetry, 
scarcely  competent  to  virtue,  utterly  mcompetent  to 
liberty." 

For  the  following  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  Ticknor :  "  Mr.  Choate  was  of  counsel  in  the 
case  of  the  Federal-Street  Church,  and  I  was  sum 
moned  as  a  witness.  Sitting  with  him  in  the  bar, 


414  MEMOIR    OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.          [€HAP.  XI. 

after  I  had  been  examined,  my  eye  fell  accidentally  on 
his  notes,  which,  you  are  aware,  were  somewhat  remark 
able,  so  far  as  the  handwriting  was  concerned.  It 
struck  me,  however,  while  I  was  looking  at  them,  that 
they  much  resembled  two  rather  long  autograph  letters 
which  I  preserve  in  my  small  collection  of  such  curiosi 
ties  ;  one  by  Manuel  the  Great  of  Portugal,  dated  in 
1512,  and  the  other  by  Gonzalvo  de  Cordova,  '  the 
Great  Captain,'  written,  I  suppose,  a  little  earlier,  but 
with  no  date  that  I  can  make  out.  I  could  not  help 
telling  Mr.  Choate  that  I  possessed  these  specimens  of 
the  handwriting  of  two  such  remarkable  men,  who 
lived  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  that  they 
strongly  resembled  his  notes,  as  they  lay  on  the  table 
before  us.  '  Remarkable  men,  no  doubt,'  he  replied  in 
stantly  ;  '  they  seem  to  have  been  much  in  advance  of 
their  time  ! '  " 

This,  said  with  his  peculiar  suavity  and  droll  ex 
pression,  the  singularity  of  the  comparison  and  the 
grounds  of  praise,  was  like  a  little  flash  of  sunlight 
through  a  cloud 

Taking  an  early  morning  walk  he  met  Mr.  Prescott, 
whose  "  Philip  II."  had  been  for  some  time  impatiently 
expected.  "  You  are  out  early,"  said  the  historian. 
"  I  wish,"  he  replied,  "  I  could  say  the  same  of  you, 
who  are  keeping  the  whole  world  waiting." 

A  celebrated  lecturer  meeting  him,  said  that  he  was 
thinking  of  writing  a  lecture  on  one  of  the  ancient 
generals.  "  That  is  it,"  said  Mr.  Choate  ;  "  Hannibal 
is  your  man.  Think  of  him  crossing  the  Alps  in  win 
ter,  with  nobody  at  his  back  but  a  parcel  of  Numidians, 
Moors,  Niggers,  riding  on  horses  without  any  bridles, 
to  set  himself  against  that  imperial  Roman  power ! " 


CHAP.  XL]  ANECDOTES.  415 

Attending  the  opera  on  one  occasion,  and  being  but 
indifferently  amused  by  the  acting  and  music,  which 
he  did  not  understand,  he  turned  to  his  daughter  and 
said,  with  grave  formality :  "  Helen,  interpret  to  me 
this  libretto,  lest  I  dilate  with  the  wrong  emotion  !  " 

"  He  objected  once  to  an  illiterate  constable's  return 
of  service,  bristling  all  over  with  the  word  having,  on 
the  ground  that  it  was  bad.  The  judge  remarked  that, 
though  inelegant  and  ungrammatical  in  its  structure, 
the  paper  still  seemed  to  be  good  in  a  legal  sense.  <  It 
may  be  so,  your  Honor/  replied  Mr.  Choate,  l  but,  it 
must  be  confessed,  he  has  greatly  overworked  the 
participle.'  " : 

In  replying  to  a  lawyer  who  had  been  addressing 
the  Court  in  a  loud  and  almost  boisterous  manner,  Mr. 
Choate  referred  playfully  to  his  "  stentorian  powers." 
To  his  surprise,  however,  the  counsel  took  it  in  dud 
geon,  and  as  soon  as  possible  rose  to  protest  against  the 
hostile  assault.  "  He  had  not  been  aware  of  any  thing 
in  his  mode  of  address  which  would  justify  such  an 
epithet ;  he  thought  it  unusual  and  undeserved,"  &c., 
&c.  Going  on  thus,  his  voice  unconsciously  soon  rose 
again  to  its  highest  key,  and  rung  through  the  court 
house  as  if  he  were  haranguing  an  army  ;  when  Mr. 
Choate  half  rose,  and  stretching  out  his  hand  with  a 
deprecatory  gesture,  said,  in  the  blandest  tones,  "  One 
word,  may  it  please  the  Court ;  only  one  word,  if  my 
brother  will  allow.  I  see  my  mistake.  I  beg  leave  to 
retract  what  I  said!"  The  effect  was  irresistible. 
The  counsel  was  silent ;  the  Court  and  spectators  con 
vulsed  with  laughter. 

Of  a  lawyer  at  once  pugnacious,  obstinate,  and  dull- 

1  Essays  by  E.  P.  Whipple,  vol.  ii.  p.  167. 


416  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.          [CHAP.  XI. 

witted,  he  remarked  that  he  seemed  to  be  a  bull-dog 
with  confused  ideas.  The  description  was  compre 
hensive  and  perfect. 

During  the  trial  of  Crafts,  Mr.  Choate  was  pressing 
the  Court  to  make  what  he  thought  a  very  equitable 
and  necessary  order  in  relation  to  taking  a  certain  depo 
sition.  The  Court,  finding  no  precedent  for  it,  sug 
gested  that  the  matter  be  suspended  till  the  next  day, 
"  and  then,"  added  the  judge,  "  I  will  make  the  order, 
if  you  shall  be  able  to  furnish  me  with  any  precedent 
for  such  proceeding."  "  I  will  look,  your  Honor,"  re 
plied  Mr.  Choate,  in  his  most  deferential  manner, 
"  and  endeavor  to  find  a  precedent,  if  you  require  it ; 
though  it  would  seem  to  be  a  pity  that  the  Court 
should  lose  the  honor  of  being  the  first  to  establish  so 
just  a  rule." 

"  I  met  him  once,"  said  a  member  of  the  New  York 
Bar,1  "  at  the  United  States  Hotel,  in  Boston,  when  he 
was  boarding  there.  As  we  were  walking  np  and 
down  the  hall  of  the  house  after  dinner,  I  happened  to 
see  hanging  on  the  wall  a  map  of  a  piece  of  property 
in  Quincy,  and  remarked  that  that  reminded  me  of  one 
whom  I  must  regard  as  the  most  remarkable  man  of 
our  day  (John  Quincy  Adams).  He  said,  '  Yes,  I 
think  he  is.  We  have  no  man  as  much  so,  and  I  think 
they  have  none  in  England.  The  Duke  I  think  is  less 
wonderful,  all  things  considered.'  I  spoke  of  his  re 
markable  memory,  his  vast  knowledge,  and  his  marvel 
lous  facility  in  using  it,  and  alluded  to  his  recent 
efforts  in  the  House  of  Representatives  at  Washington, 
where  something  had  been  said  about  impeaching  him, 
and  remarked,  that  without  waiting  to  assume  the  de- 

1  From  the  memorandum  of  Hon.  Charles  A.  Feabody. 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  ELOQUENCE.  417 

fensive,  or  say  any  thing  for  himself,  he  had  rushed 
upon  his  accusers  and  well-nigh  demolished  them, 
bringing  from  the  treasures  of  his  memory  every  in 
cident  of  their  lives  that  could  be  useful  to  him,  and 
drawing  as  from  an  armory  every  variety  of  weapons 
practicable  for  their  destruction.  '  Yes,'  he  replied, 
'  he  has  always  untold  treasures  of  facts,  and  they  are 
always  at  his  command.  He  has  peculiar  powers  as 
an  assailant,  and  almost  always,  even  when  attacked, 
gets  himself  into  that  attitude  by  making  war  upon  his 
accuser;  and  he  has,  withal,  an  instinct  for  the  jugular 
and  the  carotid  artery,  as  unerring  as  that  of  any  carniv 
orous  animal .'  " 

On  one  occasion  Mr.  Choate  was  engaged  in  a  patent 
case  where  a  great  number  of  witnesses  had  been  ex 
amined  by  his  opponent,  and  he  was  at  the  same  time 
a  delegate  to  the  Whig  convention,  which  was  to  choose 
between  several  candidates  for  the  Presidency,  of  whom 
Mr.  Webster  was  one.  In  closing  the  case,  when  he 
came  to  comment  on  the  witnesses  of  the  opposite 
party,  he  said,  "The  defendant  has  such  an  array  of 
witnesses  on  this  point,  that  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin  with  them  ;  but  if  your  Honor  pleases,  I  think  I 
will  take  them  up,  as  we  shall  have  to  do  by  and  by  in 
canvassing  for  candidates  for  the  Presidency,  alphabet 
ically  ;  and  hence  I  will  do  here  as  I  should  wish  to 
do  there,  reverse  the  alphabet  and  begin  with  the 
W.'s."  The  allusion  was  instantly  appreciated  by 
Court,  jury,  and  audience ;  and  as  most  of  them  were 
Massachusetts  men,  and  friends  of  Mr.  Webster,  it 
came  near  provoking  a  very  audible  demonstration. 

Mr.  Choate's  eloquence  was  of  an  extraordinary 
nature,  which  one  who  never  heard  him  can  hardly 

27 


418  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         [CHAP.  XL 

understand.  It  was  complex,  like  his  mind  ;  at  once 
broad  and  subtle  ;  easily  understood  but  impossible  to 
describe  ;  compact  with  all  the  elements  of  beauty  and 
of  power  ;  a  spell  composed  of  all  things  rich  and 
strange,  to  fascinate,  persuade,  and  convince.  It  was 
not  by  accident  that  he  reached  such  success  as  an  ad 
vocate,  but  through  profound  study  and  severe  training. 
Not  to  speak  of  that  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  perma 
nent  success  at  the  bar,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
law  as  a  science,  as  well  as  in  its  forms,  he  was  remark 
able  for  sound  judgment  in  the  preparation  and  manage 
ment  of  a  cause.  He  knew  instinctively  what  to  affirm 
and  what  to  yield.  He  chose  the  point  of  attack  or  de 
fence  with  consummate  skill ;  and  if  he  did  not  succeed, 
it  was  because  success  was  not  possible.  His  mind 
moved  like  a  flash,  and  an  unguarded  point,  a  flaw  in 
an  argument,  an  unwise  theory  of  procedure,  a  charge 
somewhat  too  strong  or  a  little  beside  the  real  purpose, 
were  seized  upon  with  almost  absolute  certainty  and 
turned  with  damaging  effect  against  his  opponents.  In 
the  preparation  of  a  case  he  left  nothing  to  accident 
which  he  could  fix  by  care  and  labor.  In  determining 
a  theory  of  defence,  he  was  endless  in  suggestions  and 
hypotheses  till  the  one  was  chosen  which  seemed  im 
pregnable,  or  at  any  rate  the  best  that  could  be  found. 
In  consultation  he  generally  looked  first  at  his  oppo 
nent's  side,  then  at  his  own  ;  stating  in  full  force  every 
unfavorable  argument,  and  then  endeavoring  to  answer 
them,  thus  playing  the  whole  through  like  a  game  of 
chess.  In  these  cases  his  attention  was  given  not  only 
to  a  general  proposition  but  to  all  its  details.  A 
person  once  prosecuted  the  city  to  recover  damages  for 
injuries  received  by  a  fall  in  consequence  of  a  defect 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS   ELOQUENCE.  419 

in  a  bridge.  At  the  first  meeting  for  consultation  with 
the  junior  counsel  he  spent  an  hour  in  determining 
exactly  how  one  could  so  catch  his  foot  in  a  hole  as  to 
be  thrown  in  the  way  to  produce  the  specific  injury, 
till  by  means  of  the  fender  and  coal-hod,  with  the  tongs 
and  shovel,  he  constructed  a  rude  model  of  the  dilapi 
dated  bridge,  and  satisfied  himself  of  .the  precise  man 
ner  in  which  the  accident  happened.  No  man  was 
ever  more  courageous  than  he  for  his  client.  Some 
times  he  seemed  to  run  prodigious  risks ;  but  he  knew 
his  ground,  and  when  once  taken,  nothing  would  beat 
him  from  it.  His  plea  of  somnambulism  in  Tirrell's 
case  subjected  him  to  a  thousand  innuendoes,  to  the 
bantering  of  the  newspapers  and  the  ridicule  of  the 
vulgar.  The  jury  themselves  said  that  in  coming  to 
their  verdict,  they  did  not  consider  it.  But  in  the 
second  trial  he  brought  it  forward  with  just  as  much 
assurance  as  ever. 

His  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  intuitive.  At 
a  glance  he  formed  a  judgment  of  the  jurymen,  and 
governed  himself  accordingly,  sometimes  addressing 
each  individual  according  to  his  perception  of  their 
several  characteristics,  repeating  and  varying  his  argu 
ments  till  every  mind  was  reached.  However  forcible 
or  strong,  he  never  was  harsh  or  coarse.  In  no  orator 
were  the  elements  of  conviction  and  persuasion  so 
beautifully  blended.  His  conviction  was  persuasive  ; 
his  persuasion,  convincing.  More  truly  than  was  said 
of  Fox,  "  his  intellect  was  all  feeling,  and  his  feeling 
all  intellect."  No  juryman  was  ever  weary  with  his 
argument.  The  driest  matter  of  fact  was  enlivened 
by  some  unexpected  turn  of  humor,  or  unthought-of 
illustration.  His  logic  never  assumed  technical  forms, 


420  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  XL 

but  was  enveloped  and  carried  onward  in  narrative 
and  illustration. 

In  his  arguments  to  a  jury,  his  openings  were  nat 
ural,  easy,  and  informal.  He  glided  into  a  subject  so 
gently  that  you  hardly  knew  it.  He,  oftener  than 
otherwise,  began  with  a  general  statement  of  the  whole 
case,  making  a  cjear  and  definite  outline,  which  no  one 
could  fail  to  understand  and  remember.  He  then  pro 
ceeded  to  a  careful  and  protracted  analysis  of  the  evi 
dence  ;  his  theory  of  the  case,  in  the  mean  time,  had 
been  pretty  broadly  broached,  and  his  propositions, 
perhaps,  laid  down,  and  repeated  with  every  variety  of 
statement  which  seemed  necessary  for  his  purpose. 
Often  his  theory  was  insinuated  rather  than  stated, 
and  the  jury  were  led  insensibly  to  form  it  for  them 
selves.  His  skill  in  narrative  was  equal  to  his  cogency 
in  argument.  He  had  a  wonderful  power  of  vivid 
portraiture,  —  of  compressing  an  argument  into  a 
word,  or  phrase,  or  illustration. 

No  one  could  make  a  more  clear,  convincing,  and 
effective  statement ;  none  held  all  the  resources  of  the 
language  more  absolutely  at  command.  His  power 
over  the  sympathies,  by  which,  from  the  first  word  he 
uttered,  you  were  drawn  to  him  with  a  strange  and 
inexplicable  attraction,  was  wonderful.  Court,  jury, 
and  spectators  seemed  fused  into  one  mass  of  willing 
and  delighted  listeners.  They  could  not  help  being 
influenced  by  him.  Calming  the  hostility  of  his  hear 
ers  by  kindness,  conciliating  their  prejudices,  convert 
ing  them  into  friends,  bending  their  will  to  his  in 
delightful  harmony,  he  moved  on  with  irresistible 
force,  boiling  along  his  course,  tumultuous  but  beauti 
ful,  lifting  them  bodily,  bearing  all  with  him,  and 


CIIAP.  XI.]  HIS   SELF-POSSESSION.  421 

prostrating  all  before  him.  His  pleasantry  and  wit,  ^ 
his  grotesque  exaggerations,  never  gross  or  vulgar, 
served  to  wake  up  a  sleepy  juryman,  or  relieve  a  dry 
detail.  They  lubricated  the  wheels  of  a  long  train  of 
discussion.  He  often  put  himself  so  far  as  he  could, 
really  or  jocosely  yet  half  in  earnest,  into  sympathy 
with  his  opponents  themselves.  In  the  Dalton  case  he 
professed  at  the  outset  that  he  spoke  in  tlfe  interest  of 
both  parties.  In  the  case  of  Shaw  vs.  The  Boston  and 
Worcester  Railroad,  which  was  contested  with  a  good 
deal  of  feeling,  coming  to  the  close  of  his  argument 
he  said,  turning  round  and  facing  the  President  of  the 
road,  "  My  friends,  the  President  and  Directors  of  the 
Boston  and  Worcester  Railroad,  honorable  and  high- 
minded  men  as  I  know  them  to  be,  have  probably  con 
sidered  that  they  should  not  be  justified  in  paying  to 
the  plaintiff  the  large  sum  of  money  claimed  in  this 
case  without  the  protection  of  a  judgment  in  a  suit  at 
law  ;  but  I  have  no  doubt,  gentlemen,  if  you  establish 
the  liability,  every  one  of  them  would  lay  his  hand  on 
his  heart  and  say,  '  Give  her  all  that  she  asks,  and 
God  bless  her ! '  " 

Mr.  Choate  never  lost  self-possession.  He  seemed 
to  have  the  surest  mastery  of  himself  in  the  moment 
of  greatest  excitement.  He  was  never  beside  himself 
with  passion  or  anxiety,  and  seldom  disconcerted  by 
any  accident  or  unexpected  posture  of  affairs,  —  so 
very  seldom  indeed,  that  the  one  or  two  cases  where  he 
was  slightly  so,  are  pretty  distinctly  remembered. 
One  instance  occurred  in  the  trial  of  a  question  of 
salvage.  It  was  the  case  of  The  Missouri,  an  Ameri 
can  vessel  stranded  on  the  coast  of  Sumatra,  with 
specie  on  board.  The  master  of  the  stranded  vessel, 


422  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  XI. 

one  Dixey,  and  Pitman,  the  master  of  the  vessel  thai 
came  to  her  aid,  agreed  together  to  embezzle  the  greatei 
part  of  the  specie,  and  pretend  that  they  had  been 
robbed  of  it  by  the  Malays.  Mr.  Choate  was  cross 
examining  Dixey  very  closely  to  get  out  of  him  the 
exact  time  and  nature  of  the  agreement.  The  witness 
said  that  Pitman  proposed  the  scheme,  and  that  he 
objected  to 'it,  among  other  reasons,  as  dangerous. 
To  which,  he  said,  Pitman  made  a  suggestion  in 
tended  to  satisfy  him.  Mr.  Choate  insisted  on  know 
ing  what  that  suggestion  was.  The  witness  relucted 
at  giving  it.  Mr.  Choate  was  peremptory,  and  the 
scene  became  interesting.  "  Well,"  said  Dixey  at 
last,  "  if  you  must  know,  he  said  that  if  any  trouble 
came  of  it  we  could  have  Rufus  Choate  to  defend  us, 
and  he  would  get  us  off  if  we  were  caught  with  the 
money  in  our  boots."  It  was  several  minutes  before 
the  Court  could  go  on  with  the  business.  For  a  few 
moments  Mr.  Choate  seemed  uncertain  how  to  take  it. 
He  did  not  relish  the  nature  of  the  compliment,  and 
yet  it  was  a  striking  tribute  to  his  fame  that  two  men, 
at  the  antipodes,  should  concoct  a  great  fraud  relying 
upon  his  genius  to  save  them ;  and  so  the  opposing 
counsel,  Mr.  Dana,  put  it,  in  his  argument,  aptly  quot 
ing  the  QUCB  regio  in  terris. 

His  wit,  his  ludicrous  representations,  his  sublime 
exaggerations,  were  never  without  a  purpose.  They 
were  hot  the  result  of  a  taste  which  delighted  in  such 
things  as  beauties  or  felicities,  but  of  a  desire  to  attract 
the  wandering  attention,  to  fasten  a  thought  by  a  lu 
dicrous  picture,  to  relieve  the  mind  of  the  weary  jury, 
or  to  show  by  an  illustration  the  absurdity  of  the  propo 
sition  he  was  combating. 


CHAP.   XI.]        HIS  POWER  OVER  AN  AUDIENCE.  423 

Iii  an  argument  before  a  committee  of  the  Legisla 
ture  in  1860,  in  behalf  of  the  petitioners  for  a  railroad 
from  Salem  to  Maiden,  he  drew  one  of  those  pictures 
with  which  he  was  accustomed  to  amuse,  but,  also, 
much  more  than  merely  to  amuse,  a  jury.  One  argu 
ment  in  favor  of  the  new  road  was,  that  it  would  enable 
travellers  to  avoid  the  East  Boston  Ferry,  and  to  gain 
in  speed.  In  reply,  the  beauties  of  the  prospect  in  the 
harbor,  and  the  pleasure  of  meeting  friends  on  the 
boat,  were  referred  to,  as  an  offset. 

"The  learned  though  somewhat  fanciful  gentleman," 
said  Mr.  Choate,  "  has  eloquently  set  forth  the  delight 
which  must  be  felt  by  all  in  catching  an  occasional 
glimpse  of  the  harbor,  as  they  cross  in  the  boat ;  as  if 
the  business  people  of  Danvers,  Lynn,  or  Saugus,  would 
care  to  stop,  or  think  of  stopping,  to  gaze  upon  the 
threadbare  and  monotonous  beauties  of  Boston  Harbor 
when  hurrying  to  transact  their  affairs.  Unfortunately, 
too,  for  the  gentleman's  case,  in  this  respect,  it  so  hap 
pens  that  these  same  people  have  compelled  this  com 
pany  to  arch  their  boat  all  over,  and  wall  it  up  all 
round,  so  that  nothing  at  all  can  be  seen.  Then  the 
delight  of  meeting  and  shaking  hands  with  an  old 
friend !  Conceive,  gentlemen,  the  pastoral,  touching, 
pathetic  picture  of  two  Salem  gentlemen,  who  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  seeing  each  other  a  dozen  times  a  day  for 
the  last  twenty-five  years,  almost  rushing  into  each  other's 
arms  on  board  the  ferry-boat ;  —  WHAT  TRANSPORT  !  We 
can  only  regret  that  such  felicity  should  be  so  soon 
broken  up  by  the  necessity  of  running  a  race  against 
time,  or  fighting  with  each  other  for  a  seat  in  the 
cars." 

During  the  trial  of  Tirrell,  a  certain  police  officer 


424  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XL 

who  was  called  by  the  government,  took  occasion  sev 
eral  times  to  give  his  opinion  very  flippantly  and  out 
of  place  on  several  points  of  the  case.  This  was  soon 
after  the  discovery  of  a  new  planet,  and  the  appear 
ance  of  several  learned  papers  on  it  by  Prof.  Peirce,  of 
Cambridge.  In  the  course  of  Mr.  Choate's  argument, 
and  when  he  came  to  review  the  testimony  of  the  wit 
ness,  he  said,  "  And  then,  gentlemen,  the  witness,  not 
content  with  coloring  and  distorting  the  facts,  gravely 
and  sententiously  gives  us  his  opinion  on  this  and  that 
point  with  all  the  assurance  of  an  expert.  I  wonder 
what  he  thinks  of  the  new  planet,  I  am  dying  to  know 
his  opinion  of  Prof.  Peirce's  theory  of  the  aberration 
of  light  touching  that  stranger  in  the  heavens." 

The  following  ludicrous  exaggeration  long  held  its 
place  among  the  stories  about  the  Court :  — 

In  April,  1847,  the  Joint  Commissioners  of  Massa 
chusetts  and  Rhode  Island,  appointed  to  ascertain  and 
establish  the  boundary  line  between  the  two  States, 
made  an  agreement  and  presented  it  to  their  respective 
Legislatures. 

Parties  living  in  Massachusetts,  whose  rights  were 
affected  by  this  decision,  petitioned  the  Legislature 
against  the  acceptance  of  the  Commissioners"  report. 
Mr.  Choate  appeared  for  these  remonstrants.  A  por 
tion  of  the  boundary  line  was  described  in  the  agreement 
as  follows:  "Beginning,"  <fcc.,  <fcc.,  "thence  to  an 
angle  on  the  easterly  side  of  Watuppa  Pond,  thence 
across  the  said  pond  to  the  two  rocks  on  the  westerly 
side  of  said  pond  and  near  thereto,  then  westerly 
to  the  buttonwood  tree  in  the  village  of  Fall  River," 
&c.,  &c. 

In   his   argument,   commenting   on    the   boundary, 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  STYLE.  425 

Mr.  Choate  thus  referred  to  this  part  of  the  descrip 
tion  :  — 

"  A  boundary  line  between  two  sovereign  States  de 
scribed  by  a  couple  of  stones  near  a  pond,  and  a  button- 
wood  sapling  in  a  village.  The  Commissioners  might 
as  well  have  defined  it  as  starting  from  a  blue  jay, 
thence  to  a  swarm  of  bees  in  hiving-time,  and  thence  to 
five  hundred  foxes  with  firebrands  tied  to  their  tails  !" 

Mr.  Choate's  style  was  peculiar,  and  entirely  his  own. 
Its  exuberance,  its  stateliness  and  dignity,  its  music 
and  its  wealth,  were  as  fascinating  as  they  were  inim 
itable.  One  can  hardly  fail  to  recognize,  even  in  the 
least  characteristic  of  his  speeches,  a  true  nobleness,  a 
touch  of  imperial  grace,  such  as  has  been  vouchsafed 
only  to  the  supreme  masters  of  the  language.  His  style 
has  sometimes  been  criticised  by  those  who  have  for 
gotten  that  his  speeches  were  meant  for  hearers  rather 
than  for  readers,  and  that  a  mind  of  such  extraordinary 
affluence  and  vigor  will,  of  necessity,  in  many  respects, 
be  a  law  to  itself.  He  was,  however,  quite  aware  that 
a  style  of  greater  simplicity  and  severity  would  be 
necessary  for  a  writer  ;  and  this,  probably,  was  one 
thing  which  prevented  him  from  entering  seriously  on 
those  literary  labors  which  were  evidently,  at  one  time, 
an  object  of  real  interest. 

I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  introduce  here  some  subtle 
and  suggestive  remarks  on  this  subject  by  an  observant 
and  thoughtful  critic,  —  Rev.  Joseph  Tracy. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  says,  "  that  I  can  describe 
suitably,  on  paper,  that  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Choate's 
style  of  which  we  were  speaking,  and  which  is  so 
marked  in  his  famous  '  long  sentences.'  Many  have 
observed  that  it  was  not  wordiness.  He  had  words 


426  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  XI. 

and  used  them,  in  rich  abundance;  but  if  you  examine 
even  the  most  sounding  of  his  long  sentences,  you  find 
in  them  no  redundant  words.  Each  of  its  several 
members  is  made  up  of  such  words,  and  of  such  only, 
as  were  needed  for  the  perfect  expression  of  the 
thought. 

"  Nor  was  it  in  that  cumulative  power  by  which  one 
idea,  image,  or  argument,  is  piled  upon  another,  so  as 
to  make  up  an  overwhelming  mass.  He  had  this 
power  in  a  remarkable  degree  ;  but  so  had  many  others 
—  perhaps  almost  all  great  orators.  Cicero  has  left 
some  splendid  examples  of  it. 

"  It  was  rather  the  result  of  the  peculiar  logical 
structure  of  his  mind  ;  for  in  him  logic  and  rhetoric 
were  not  separate  departments,  but  one  living  process. 
He  instinctively  strove  to  present  an  idea,  a  thought, 
in  its  perfect  completeness,  —  the  thought,  the  whole 
thought,  and  nothing  but  the  thought ;  so  to  present  it 
that  there  would  be  no  need  of  adding  to  his  statement 
of  it,  subtracting  from  it,  or  in  any  way  modifying  it, 
after  it  had  once  been  made.  He  seemed  to  use  words 
not  exactly  to  convey  ideas  to  his  hearers,  but  rather 
to  assist  and  guide  their  minds  in  the  work  of  con 
structing  the  same  ideas  that  were  in  his  own.  In 
carrying  their  minds  through  this  process,  he  must 
give  them,  not  merely  the  idea  which  had  been  the  re 
sult  of  his  own  thinking,  but  its  elements,  their  propor 
tions,  their  limitations,  their  bearings  on  the  results. 
In  this  process,  clauses  of  definition,  of  discrimination, 
of  limitation,  were  often  as  necessary  as  those  of  a 
contrary  character.  Any  element  of  thought  which 
contributed  to  the  result  only  in  some  qualified  sense 
must  be  mentioned  with  the  proper  qualification,  lest 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  STYLE.  427 

there  should  remain  a  doubt  whether  it  ought  to  be 
mentioned  at  all.  It  is  in  this  respect  that  his  long 
sentences  seem  to  me  to  differ,  characteristically,  from 
the  long  sentences  of  other  orators,  which  are  merely 
cumulative.  The  practical  effect  was,  that  the  hearer 
found  himself  not  merely  overwhelmed  by  the  multi 
tude  of  grand  things  that  had  been  said,  but  also  led, 
by  a  safe  logical  process,  to  the  desired  conclusion. 

"  How  else  can  we  account  for  the  effect  which  his 
long  sentences  certainly  did  produce  on  even  common 
minds  ?  Could  such  minds,  after  hearing  one  of  them, 
recollect  and  appreciate  all  the  particulars  contained 
in  it  ?  But  few,  even  of  educated  men,  who  read  them, 
can  do  that.  The  effect  is  produced  by  the  logic  which 
runs  through  them  and  does  its  work  during  the  prog 
ress  of  the  sentence,  so  that  when  the  sentence  is  ended 
the  conclusion  is  reached. 

"  A  remarkable  example  of  such  long  sentences  as  I 
have  tried  to  describe,  is  found  in  Mr.  Choate's  remarks 
at  the  meeting  of  the  Suffolk  Bar  on  the  death  of  Mr. 
Webster.  I  have  often  thought  that  studying  that  ad 
dress,  so  as  thoroughly  to  master  it  (and  the  same 
may  be  said  of  his  Eulogy  on  Mr.  Webster,  and  other 
elaborate  performances),  would  be  a  good  exercise  for 
a  theological  student,  about  to  enter  on  the  study  of 
Paul's  Epistles,  where  he  will  find  many  long  sentences 
which  seem  to  be  made  long  on  the  same  principle, 
and  as  a  result  of  the  same  logical  instincts.  Paul's 
parentheses,  like  those  of  Choate,  are  put  in,  that  the 
reader,  when  he  arrives  at  the  end  of  a  sentence,  may 
have  constructed  in  his  own  mind  exactly  the  right 
idea,  with  all  the  limitations,  qualifications,  and  appur 
tenances  which  are  essential  to  its  identity  and  com 
pleteness." 


428  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CHAP.  XI. 

Mr.  Choate's  memory  was  exact  and  tenacious.  He . 
could  generally  repeat  considerable  portions  of  what 
he  had  recently  read ;  was  always  ready  with  an  apt 
quotation,  and  able  to  correct  those  who  made  a  wrong 
one.  An  interesting  illustration  of  this  occurred  dur 
ing  the  trial  of  William  Wyman,  in  1843,  for  embez 
zling  the  funds  of  the  Phoenix  Bank.  An  array  of 
counsel  was  assembled  such  as  is  rarely  seen,  and  the 
court-house  was  crowded  with  intensely  interested 
spectators.  "  In  the  course  of  the  trial,  and  in  a  most 
exciting  passage,  when  all  the  counsel  appeared  to  be 
intent  upon  the  case  and  nothing  else,  Mr.  Webster 
wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper  a  favorite  couplet  of  Pope, 
and  passed  it  to  Mr.  Choate, 

'  Lo  where  Mseotis  sleeps,  and  softly  flows 
The  freezing  Tanais  through  a  waste  of  snows.' 

Mr.  Choate  wrote  at  the  bottom  i  wrong.' 

'  Lo  where  Mteotis  sleeps,  and  hardly  flows 
The  freezing  Tanais  through  a  waste  of  snows.' 

Mr.  Webster  rejoined,  '  right,'  and  offered  a  wager. 
A  messenger  was  despatched  for  Pope,  when  it  ap 
peared  that  Mr.  Choate  was  right.  Mr.  Webster 
gravely  wrote  on  the  copy  of  Pope,  '  spurious  edition,' 
and  the  subject  was  dropped.  All  this  while  the  spec 
tators  were  in  the  full  belief  that  the  learned  counsel 
were  in  earnest  consultation  on  some  difficult  point  of 
law."  i 

The  profound  admiration  which  Mr.  Choate  felt  for 
Mr.  Webster  was  sincerely  reciprocated.  During  this 
trial  some  ladies  said  to  Mr.  Webster  that  they  longed 

1  Law  Reporter,  January,  1844. 


CHAP.  XI.]        HIS  FELICITY   OF   QUOTATION.  429 

for  the  arguments  to  come  on,  as  they  wished  to  hear 
him.  To  which  he  replied  to  the  effect  that  he  was  a 
matter-of-fact  old  man,  and  that  if  he  ever  had  the 
power  of  interesting,  it  had  gone.  He  then  spoke  with 
great  warmth  and  earnestness  of  Mr.  Choate,  charac 
terizing  him  as  the  genius  of  the  American  Bar.  He 
afterwards  spoke  of  Pinkney,  and  said  that  Choate  was 
the  only  American  lawyer  who  had  equalled  him,  both 
as  a  lawyer  and  an  advocate,  and  that  he  surpassed 
him.  "  In  the  past,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  the  question 
was  asked  of  a  rising  lawyer,  <  how  near  Pinkney  is 
he  ? '  In  the  future  it  will  be,  how  near  Choate  ? 
As  a  mere  dry  lawyer,  he  is  equal  to  himself  as  an 
advocate,  and  what  more  can  be  said  ?  " 

One  will  not  unfrequently  notice  in  Mr.  Choate's 
speeches  and  writings,  as  they  might  have  in  his 
conversation,  fragmentary  quotations,  —  half-lines  of 
poetry,  —  a  single  catchword  of  a  wise  maxim,  —  a  par 
tially  translated  proverb, —  which  harmonized  with  his 
thought,  but  which  to  those  familiar  with  them  were 
suggestive  of  much  more  than  was  said.  An  instance 
of  his  readiness  in  felicitous  quotation  is  given  by  Mr. 
Parker  in  his  "  Reminiscences,"  which  I  am  permitted 
to  extract. 

"  In  the  winter  of  1850,  a  large  party  was  given  in 
Washington,  and  many  illustrious  personages  were 
present,  who  have  since,  like  Mr.  Choate,  gone  down 
to  the  grave  amid  the  tears  of  their  countrymen.  The 
Senate,  at  that  time  worthy  of  the  name,  was  well  rep 
resented  on  this  occasion  of  festivity,  and  the  play  and 
airy  vivacity  of  the  conversation,  with  '  the  cups  which 
cheer  but  not  inebriate,'  relaxed  at  intervals  even  sena 
torial  dignity.  During  the  evening  the  subject  of 


430  MEMOIR  OF  RU*US  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

4  Young  America '  was  introduced,  —  his  wayward 
ness,  his  extravagance,  his  ignorance,  and  presumption. 
Mr.  Webster  observed,  that  he  hoped  the  youth  would 
soon  come  to  his  senses,  and  atone,  by  the  correctness 
of  his  deportment,  for  his  juvenile  dissipation.  At 
the  same  time,  he  added,  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  only 
efficient  remedy  for  the  vice  and  folly  of  the  lad  would 
be  found  in  early  religious  training,  and  stricter  paren 
tal  restraint.  Mr.  Choate  declared,  that  he  did  not 
view  the  hair-brained  youth  in  the  same  light  with  his 
illustrious  friend ;  that  every  age  and  every  country 
had,  if  not  their  '  Young  America,'  at  least  something 
worse.  The  character  of  Trajan,  the  best  and  purest 
of  Roman  emperors,  said  he,  was  unable,  with  all  its 
virtue  and  splendpr,  to  check  the  '  Young  Italy '  of 
that  day.  Our  lads  would  seem  to  have  sat  for  the 
picture  which  has  been  drawn  of  the  Roman  youths, 
by  the  hand  of  one  who  seldom  colored  too  highly. 
'  Statim  sapiunt,  statim  sciunt  omnta  ;  neminem  verentur, 
imitantur  neminem,  atque  ipsi  sibi  exempla  suntj  which, 
translated,  reads  thus,  '  From  their  cradles  they  know 
all  things,  —  they  understand  all  things,  —  they  have 
no  regard  for  any  person  whatever,  high  or  low,  rich  or 
poor,  religious  or  otherwise,  —  and  are  themselves  the 
only  examples  which  they  are  disposed  to  follow.'  Mr. 
Benton  thought  the  quotation  too  happy  to  be  genuine, 
and  demanded  the  author.  Mr.  Choate,  with  the  ut 
most  good  humor,  replied,  that  his  legal  habits  had 
taught  him  the  importance  of  citing  no  case  without 
being  able  to  give  his  authorities ;  he  called  for  the 
younger  Pliny,  and  triumphantly  showed  the  passage, 
amid  the  admiration  of  that  brilliant  assembly,  in  the 
23d  letter  of  the  8th  book.  Our  informant  remarks, 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  LOVE  FOR  BOOKS.  431 

that  the  history  of  literature,  perhaps,  cannot  show  an 
equally  felicitous  quotation." 

His  fondness  for  books  was  a  striking  characteristic. 
The  heart  of  his  home  was  his  library.  Hither  he  re 
treated  from  the  distractions  of  business,  and  the  dis 
appointments  of  politics,  to  discourse  with  the  great 
spirits  of  other  times  ;  yielding  with  unfailing  delight 
to  the  lofty  stimulus  of  great  minds,  and  communing 
with  them  as  with  friends.  He  reposed  among  his 
books.  He  bought  them  freely,  generally  for  use, 
though  in  some  departments,  and  with  some  favorite 
authors,  he  allowed  free  scope  to  his  tastes,  and 
adorned  his  shelves  with  choice  editions.  In  a  city  he 
gravitated  toward  a  bookstore  or  a  public  library,  as  if  by 
a  fixed  and  unvarying  law  of  nature. .  During  the  earlier 
years  of  his  residence  in  Boston,  when  professional 
occupation  allowed  him  leisure,  he  was  often  found  in 
Burnham's  Antiquarian  Bookstore,  poring  over  the 
heterogeneous  treasures  of  that  immense  depository. 

Shortly  after  his  death  there  appeared  in  the  "  New 
York  Times "  a  communication  from  a  well-known 
dealer  in  old  and  rare  books,1  which  merits  preserva 
tion,  as  a  simple,  unvarnished  statement  of  the  truth. 

"RuFus  CHOATE'S  LOVE  FOR  BOOKS. 

"  The  death  of  this  illustrious  man  brings  to  my 
mind  certain  reminiscences  of  him,  which  I  think 
worthy  of  keeping  in  remembrance. 

"  About  ten  years  ago,  when  on  a  visit,  or  passing 
through  this  city,  Mr.  Choate  called  at  my  store,  about 
ten  o'clock,  A.M.,  and  introduced  himself  as  a  lover  of 

1  William  Gowans. 


432  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.        [CiJAr.  XI. 

books  and  an  occasional  buyer,  and  then  desired  to  be 
shown  where  the  Metaphysics,  and  the  Greek  and  Ro 
man  Classics,  stood.  He  immediately  commenced  his 
researches,  with  great  apparent  eagerness  ;  nor  did  he 
quit  his  toil  till  he  was  compelled  to  do  so  by  the  store 
being  shut  up,  thus  having  been  over  nine  hours  on  a 
stretch,  without  food  or  drink.  He  remarked  that '  he 
had  quite  exhausted  himself,  mentally  as  well  as 
bodily.'  He  had  been  greatly  interested,  as  well  as 
excited,  at  what  he  had  seen ;  '  for,'  continued  he,  '  I 
have  discovered  many  books  that  I  have  never  seen  be 
fore,  and  seen  those  that  I  had  never  heard  of;  but, 
above  all,  I  have  been  more  than  overjoyed  at  discover 
ing,  in  your  collection,  a  copy  of  the  Greek  bishop's1 
famous  commentary  on  the  writings  of  Homer,  in 
seven  volumes,  quarto,  a  work  that  I  have  long  had  an 
intense  desire  to  possess.'  He  afterwards  purchased 
the  precious  volumes.  I  had  the  seven  volumes  bound 
in  three,  in  handsome  and  appropriate  style.  These 
works  no  doubt  still  grace  his  library.  W.  G." 

To  the  last  he  was  studious  of  letters,  full  of  sym 
pathy  with  literary  men  and  their  works,  and  especially 
fond  of  the  classics,  and  of  imaginative  literature. 
During  the  most  busy  period  of  his  professional  labor 
he  managed  to  secure  at  least  an  hour  every  day — res 
cued  from  sleep,  or  society,  or  recreation  —  for  Greek 
or  Latin,  or  some  other  favorite  study.  He  sometimes, 

1  Eustathius  (Archbishop  of  Thessalonica)  was  born  in  the  twelfth 
century  at  Constantinople.  He  was  the  author  of  the  well-known 
voluminous  commentary  on  Homer,  written  in  the  same  language  as 
the  Iliad.  His  commentaries  were  first  printed  at  Home,  1550,  in  two 
volumes  folio.  Besides  these  commentaries,  he  was  the  author  of 
several  other  critical  works. 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS   LOVE   FOR  BOOKS.  433 

at  the  commencement  of  a  college  term,  would  mark 
out  his  course  of  study  by  the  curriculum  as  laid  down 
in  the  catalogue,  and  thus  keep  on  pari  passu  with  one 
or  two  of  the  classes.  He  was  indifferent  to  ordinary 
amusements,  had  no  love  for  horses,  or  field  sports ; 
and  seemed  hardly  to  desire  any  other  rest  than  that 
which  came  from  a  change  of  intellectual  action.  In 
the  later  years  of  his  life  he  undertook  the  study  of 
German  with  one  of  his  daughters,  learning  the  gram 
mar  during  his  morning  walks,  and  reciting  at  table. 

If  the  question  were  asked,  to  what  pursuits  Mr. 
Choate's  tastes,  unobstructed,  would  have  led  him,  I 
am  inclined  to  think  the  answer  would  be  —  to  letters 
rather  than  to  the  law.  Books  were  his  passion.  His 
heart  was  in 

"  The  world  of  thought,  the  world  of  dreams," 

with  philosophers,  historians,  and  poets  ;  and  had  his 
fortune  allowed,  he  would  have  endeavored  to  take 
rank  with  them,  —  to  illustrate,  perhaps,  some  great 
period  of  history  with  a  work  worthy  of  the  best  learn 
ing  and  the  widest  culture ;  or  to  unfold  the  sound  and 
deep  principles  of  a  true  political  philosophy.  He 
might  not,  indeed,  have  avoided,  but  rather  have  sought, 
public  life ;  for  he  felt  its  fascinations,  and  fairly  esti 
mated  its  grand  opportunities.  His  ambition  might 
have  been  to  move  in  the  sphere  of  Burke  (of  whom 
he  sometimes  reminds  one)  or  Macaulay,  rather  than 
that  of  Erskine  or  Eldon.  Hence,  though  bringing  to 
the  Law  marvellous  aptitude,  wonderful  diligence,  and 
entire  self-devotion,  sacrificing,  as  some  thought,  in  the 
sharp  contests  of  the  bar,  powers  which  might  better 
have  graced  another  and  higher  sphere,  —  he  was  never 


434  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

a  mere  lawyer.  And  yet,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  pro 
fession,  —  it  was  a  necessity,  and  at  least  a  second  love, 
—  that  with  the  exception  of  a  few  columns  in  the 
newspapers,  a  brief  article  in  the  "  North  American 
Review/'  a  few  speeches  and  orations,  I  know  not  that 
he  fully  prepared  any  thing  for  the  press. 

He  cared  nothing  for  money ;  little,  too  little  per 
haps,  for  society,  beyond  his  own  immediate  friends ; 
and  less  than  any  able  and  brilliant  man  I  ever  knew, 
or  almost  ever  heard  of,  for  fame  ;  but  study,  books, 
intellectual  labor  and  achievements,  poetry,  truth  — 
these  were  controlling  elements  of  his  life.  However 
prostrated  or  worn,  a  new  intellectual  stimulus  would 
raise  him  in  an  instant.  "  One  day,"  says  a  former 
student  of  his,1  "  he  came  into  the  office  tired  and  sick  ; 
the  great  lines  of  his  face  yellow  and  deep ;  his  eyes 
full  of  a  blaze  of  light,  yet  heavy  and  drooping.  Throw 
ing  himself  exhausted  on  the  sofa,  he  exclaimed, 4  The 
law  —  to  be  a  good  lawyer  is  no  more  than  to  be  a  good 
carpenter.  It  is  knack,  —  simply  running  a  machine.' 
Soon  after  a  man  came^in  with  a  splendid  edition  of 
Sir  William  Hamilton's  '  Reid,'  fresh  from  London. 
He  was  changed  in  a  moment.  Springing  from  the 
sofa,  he  glanced  admiringly  over  the  philosophy,  say 
ing,  '  Here's  food ;  now  I  will  go  home  and  feast. 
There's  true  poetry  in  these  metaphysicians.'  And 
so  he  went  off  to  refresh  himself  with  that  light  read 
ing." 

The  following  recollections  of  Mr.  Choate  are  from 
a  gentleman  who  saw  him  frequently  and  familiarly  :  — 


1  Rev.  J.  M.  Marsters,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  many  interest 
ing  particulars. 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS   CONVERSATION.  435 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  The  principal  reason  for  my  neglect 
to  send  you  any  reminiscences  of  Mr.  Choate  is,  that 
when  I  have  tried  to  put  them  into  shape,  they  have 
seemed  too  meagre  and  insignificant  to  be  worth  your 
notice.  Indeed,  I  think  that  the  recollections  of  his 
daily  life,  retained  by  any  one  who  saw.  him  familiarly 
c  in  his  habit  as  he  lived,'  are  extremely  difficult  of  de 
velopment  in  words.  Every  thing  which  he  said  pro 
duced  an  impression  on  the  hearer ;  but  an  attempt  to 
repeat  the  saying,  and  reproduce  the  impression  on 
one  who  did  not  know  him,  results  in  failure.  The 
flavor  is  gone.  It  proceeded  from  the  time,  the  occa 
sion,  the  manner,  the  tone,  the  personal  magnetism  of 
the  man.  There  were  some  subjects  on  which  Mr. 
Choate  always  liked  to  talk,  —  about  his  contempora 
ries,  or  on  his  favorite  classics,  or  to  young  men  about 
their  studies,  or  the  best  preparation  for  practical  suc 
cess,  or  the  true  ends  and  aims  of  life,  and  the  ways 
and  means  of  civil  and  professional  activity  and  use 
fulness. 

"  I  used,  when  I  knew  Mr.  Choate  to  be  at  leisure 
and  alone,  to  stroll  from  my  room  into  his,  and  start 
some  topic.  He  would  at  once  enter  into  it  with  all 
interest,  and  as  if  that  were  the  very  subject  he  had 
been  studying  most  carefully  and  recently.  You  may 
imagine,  I  was  always  inclined  to  hear  rather  than  to 
be  heard.  Still,  his  remarks  were  always  suggestive 
of  answers  ;  and  it  was  easier  to  talk  with  him  —  really 
to  converse,  not  merely  to  listen  —  than  with  any  man 
of  note  whom  it  has  been  my  fortune  to  meet.  He 
did  not  lecture  nor  preach.  Frequently  he  drew  out 
the  knowledge  or  opinions  of  the  person  conversing 
with  him,  —  whether  young  or  old,  learned  or  other- 


436  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

wise,  —  by  direct  questions  ;  and  in  such  cases  he  al 
ways  seemed  to  be  actually  seeking  information,  —  not 
attempting  to  find  out,  like  a  tutor  at  a  recitation,  how 
much  the  catechised  individual  knew.  I  always  felt, 
after  spending  ten  minutes  with  him,  as  if  I  had  been 
not  only  stocked  with  fresh  stores,  but  developed,  — 
quite  as  much  educated  as  instructed.  Then,  what  he 
said  was  so  stimulant  and  encouraging.  One  always 
went  away,  not  depressed  by  the  sense  of  his  own  in 
feriority,  but  determined  to  know  more  about  what  he 
had  been  talking  of,  and  confident  that  he  had  been 
put  in  the  right  way  to  learn  more. 

"  Nothing  pleased  his  young  friends  so  much  as  the 
deference  with  which  he  received  what  they  had  to  say. 
I  remember  his  once  asking  what  I  thought  of  a  point 
which  he  was  about  to  argue  to  the  Bench,  and  about 
which  I  had  very  imperfect  ideas.  I  made  some  sort 
of  vague  reply  ;  but  was  agreeably  surprised,  shortly 
afterwards,  by  hearing  my  exact  words  introduced  to 
the  full  Court  in  an  abundance  of  good  company,  and 
in  a  connection  which  gave  them  some  significance. 
The  junior  associate  in  a  case  could  not  whisper  to 
him  in  the  middle  of  an  argument  without  his  saying 
to  judge  or  jury,  ;  My  learned  brother  has  just  sug 
gested  to  me,'  —  and  the  suggestion,  or  something  like 
it,  would  come  forth,  freed  from  error  and  crudity,  il 
lustrated  and  made  telling. 

"  His  serious  conversation  was  always  exact  and 
terse  in  expression,  and  he  disliked  any  looseness  in 
that  respect  in  others.  He  asked  me  once  what  the 
judge  had  charged  the  jury  in  a  certain  case.  I  an 
swered  — '  That  they  must  find  the  fact  thus  and  so,' 
—  meaning  that  they  were  charged,  unless  they  found 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS   CONVERSATION.  437 

it  so,  not  to  bring  in  a  verdict  for  the  plaintiff.  He  re 
plied  very  quickly,  i  I  suppose  he  told  them  to  find  it 
as  it  was  really,  didn't  he  ?  '  In  grammar  and  pronun 
ciation  he  was  precise  even  in  his  peculiarities  ;  and 
any  error  he  would  reprove  by  introducing  the  same 
into  his  next  sentence  with  — '  as  you  call  it.' 

"  Mr.  Choate's  playful  conversation  it  seems  impos 
sible  to  put  into  a  book,  and  retain  the  sparkle.  And 
yet  his  quaintness  was  perhaps  his  most  distinguishing 
characteristic  to  those  with  whom  he  was  intimate. 
They  remember  him  asking  after  his  only  grand-daugh 
ter  with  '  How  is  the  boy  ?  '  •  —  or  coming  into  a  room 
with  a  question  or  a  remark  wholly  incongruous  with 
the  time  and  the  surroundings  ;  —  or  interspersing  the 
business  of  a  trial  with  all  sorts  of  ludicrous  remark 
and  by-play,  audible  and  visible  only  to  those  just 
around  him  in  the  bar  ;  —  or  speaking  of  a  husband, 
from  whom  he  had  just  obtained  a  settlement  for  his 
client,  an  injured  but  not  very  amiable  wife,  as  a  sin 
ner,  and  adding,  '  Mrs. is  a  sinner,  too,'  — then 

immediately  correcting  himself  with,  '  No,  Sir,  she  is 
not  a  sinner,  for  she  is  our  client,  but  she  is  certainly  a 
very  disagreeable  saint ; '  —  or  ingeniously  harassing 
a  nervous  legal  opponent,  in  private  consultation  upon 
a  compromise,  until  he  rushed  from  the  room  in  dis 
traction,  and  then  quietly  finishing  the  sentence  to  the 
nervous  gentleman's  associate,  as  if  it  had  been  origi 
nally  addressed  to  him,  and  his  friend's  departure  had 
not  been  noticed;  —  or,  when  afflicted  with  the  dis 
order  of  sight  which  produces  a  wavy  illusion  before 
the  eyes,  suddenly  stopping  a  friend  in  the  street,  and 
astounding  him  with  the  statement,  l  Mr.  H.,  you  look 
like  two  great  snakes  ! '  All  these  things,  amusing 


438  MEMOIR   OF   RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

and  puzzling  when  seen  as  well  as  heard,  are  flat  and 
stale  in  the  mere  relation. 

"  I  have  mentioned  how  much  Mr.  Choate  liked  to 
talk  upon  the  classics.  His  reputation  as  a  classical 
scholar  was,  as  you  know,  very  high,  and  I  think  de 
servedly  so.  He  had  all  the  qualifications,  except 
time,  for  fine  scholarship  in  this  department,  —  an  ar 
dent  love  of  the  subject,  a  fondness  for  the  general 
study  of  language,  a  vast  and  accurate  memory,  and 
great  assiduity  and  minuteness  in  investigation.!  You 
know  how  rich  his  library  was  in  classical  works  ;  and 
I  always  used  to  see  upon  his  office-table  the  German 
periodical  catalogues  of  new  editions  and  philological 
publication.  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  equalled  the 
linguists  of  the  universities  in  thoroughness  and  pre 
cision  of  learning.  This  was  not  compatible  with  the 
variety  and  pressure  of  his  other  pursuits.  But  dur 
ing  the  few  minutes  which  he  daily  bestowed  upon 
Latin  and  Greek,  he  studied  rather  than  read,  spend 
ing  the  time  upon  one  sentence,  not  upon  several 
pages.  With  half  a  dozen  editions  of  his  authors 
open  before  him,  and  all  the  standard  lexicons  and 
grammars  at  hand,  he  referred  to  each  in  turn,  and 
compared  and  digested  their  various  authority  and 
opinion.  I  imagine  he  always  translated  (not  content 
ing  himself  with  the  idea  in  its  original  dress)  for  the 
sake  of  greater  precision  of  conception,  and  also  of 
practice  in  idiomatic  English.  You  will  notice  in  his 
written  translations  how  he  strives  to  find  a  phrase 
which  will  sound  as  familiar  to  an  English  ear,  as  the 
original  to  that  of  a  Greek  or  Roman.  When  he  uses 
an  ancient  idiom,  in  translation  or  original  composi 
tion,  it  seems  intentional,  and  as  if  he  thought  it  would 
bear  transplanting. 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS   SCHOLARSHIP.  439 

"  Iii  his  scholarship,  as  in  other  things,  lie  was  anx 
ious  to  be  accurate,  and  spared  no  pains  in  investigat 
ing  a  disputed  point.  In  this,  as  in  law,  the  merest 
novice  could  put  him  upon  inquiry,  by  doubting  his 
opinion.  He  was  not  positive  at  the  outset,  but  set 
himself  to  studying  at  once  ;  and  when  he  had  finally 
reviewed  his  position  no  one  could  stir  him  from  his 
final  conclusion.  I  remember  once  showing  him  a  new 
Quintilian  which  I  had  bought.  He  opened  it,  and 
began  translating  aloud.  Disagreeing  with  his  trans 
lation  of  some  technical  word,  I  called  his  attention  to 
it.  He  heard  what  I  had  to  say,  and  said  little  in  re 
turn.  The  next  day  he  came  armed  with  authorities, 
and  challenged  me  to  support  my  position.  I  found 
some  authorities  on  my  side ;  but  I  think  he  did  not 
let  me  rest  for  weeks,  nor  until  we  had  between  us 
brought  every  thing  in  the  books  to  bear  upon  the  ques 
tion.  The  result  was,  that  I  was  convinced  he  was 
right  at  first. 

"  Nothing  pleased  him  more  than  to  bring  his  classics 
to  bear  upon  his  daily  pursuits.  He  quoted  Latin  and 
Greek  to  juries,  sometimes  much  to  their  astonishment. 
He  wished  to  be  such  a  legal  orator  as  Demosthenes 
and  Cicero.  He  used  to  say  that  if  he  desired  to  form 
a  nisi-prius  lawyer,  he  should  make  him,  above  all, 
study  Quintilian.  He  delighted  in  Thucydides  as  il 
lustrating  the  great  question  of  confederation  or  dis 
union  between  small  republics.  These  authors,  and 
Homer  and  Horace  for  relaxation,  and  Tacitus  for 
comparison  with  Thucydides  as  a  philosophical  histo 
rian,  were  his  favorite  and  principal  classical  reading. 

"  Greek  history  was  a  constant  study  with  him.  I 
have 'no  doubt  that  at  one  time  he  meditated  a  work 


440  MEMOIR   OF  RUPUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

upon  it,  and  sketched  some  plans  and  collected  some 
materials.  He  was  always  enthusiastic  upon  this  sub 
ject.  I  shall  never  forget  the  animation  with  which, 
finding  his  son,  Rufus,  and  myself  reading  the  part  of 
Herodotus  preceding  the  first  Persian  war,  he  broke 
out  with,  <  You  are  just  seeing  the  curtain  rising  on 
the  great  drama.' 

"  Mr.  Choate's  activity  was,  as  you  know,  perfectly 
restless.  He  could  not  endure  any  thing  that  seemed 
like  trifling  with  time.  Formal  dinner-parties,  unless 
they  were  also  feasts  of  reason,  he  studiously  eschewed. 
The  mere  conventionalities  of  society  bored  him. 

"  Unceasing  as  was  his  labor,  he  was,  nevertheless, 
a  great  procrastinator.  He  could  not  prepare  his  cases 
for  trial  weeks  and  months  in  advance,  as  is  the  habit 
of  some  of  our  lawyers,  He  said  to  me  once, '  I  can 
not  get  up  the  interest  until  the  struggle  is  close  at 
hand,  then  I  think  of  nothing  else  till  it  is  over.'  He 
has  sometimes  been  known  not  to  have  put  a  word  of 
an  oration  on  paper,  at  a  time  when  the  day  of  delivery 
was  so  near  that  an  ordinary  man  would  have  thought 
the  interval  even  too  short  for  mere  revision  and  cor 
rection.  But  he  was  seldom  caught  actually  unpre 
pared.  The  activity  of  the  short  period  of  preparation 
was  intense  ;  and  as  at  some  time  or  other  in  his  life 
he  had  studied  almost  every  thing,  and  as  he  never 
forgot  any  thing  that  he  once  knew,  his  amount  and 
range  of  acquisition  gave  him  a  reserved  force  for  every 
emergency,  which  could  be  brought  into  instant  use. 
Moreover,  his  grasp  of  a  subject  was  so  immediate,  that 
he  did  as  much  in  a  moment  as  another  could  in  a  day. 
He  would  sometimes  be  retained  in  a  cause  just  going 
to  trial,  and  before  his  junior  had  finished  his  opening, 


CHAP.  XL]  HOME-LIFE.  441 

Mr.  Choate  would  seem  to  know  more  about  that  case 
than  any  other  man  in  the  court-room.  His  mental 
rapidity  showed  itself  in  every  thing.  It  was  wonderful 
to  see  him  run  through  the  leaves  of  a  series  of  digests, 
and  strike  at  a  glance  upon  what  would  most  strongly 
avail  him,  and  reject  the  weak  or  irrelevant.  So  in  all 
his  reading  he  distilled  the  spirit  (if  there  was  any) 
instantly  from  any  dilution." 

I  shall  venture  to  give  here  a  few  familiar  reminis 
cences  of  Mr.  Choate's  home-life,  exactly  as  they  were 
written  by  a  daughter,  for  the  amusement  of  one  of 
his  grand-children,  without  thought  of  their  serving  any 
other  purpose. 

"  Whoever  had  seen  your  grandpapa  with  any  of 
us  children  would  have  soon  found  that  with  all  his 
study  and  hard  work,  he  always  had  time  to  make 
home  happy,  and  romped  and  played  with  us  to  our 
hearts'  content,  —  laughed  at  our  dolls  and  cats, 
read  our  compositions,  heard  our  lessons,  and  when 
a  leisure  evening  came  would  join  us  in  our  games  of 
Royal  Goose,  and  Loto,  which  was  his  especial  favorite. 
I  am  afraid  because,  for  some  unknown  reason,  he  al 
ways  got  the  candy  in  the  pool !  .  .  .  But  we  thought 
the  best  game  of  all  with  him  was  tag,  and  that  al 
ways  came  off  just  after  dinner  before  he  went  back  to 
his  office.  There  never  could  be  again  such  a  noise 
as  we  made,  and  your  poor  grandmamma  would  have  to 
shut  her  ears  and  hide  herself  from  the  tumult.  We 
always  ended  by  rushing  after  him,  sometimes  far  into 
the  street,  and  would  not  give  up  until  he  allowed  him 
self  to  be  tagged  the  last.  But  although  he  was  so 
frolicsome  and  bubbling  up  with  fun  when  with  us 


442  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XL 

alone,  he  would  change  wholly  if  any  <  outsider '  by 
any  chance  were  with  us.  If  one  of  our  playmates 
came  in  during  our  game  of  tag,  he  at  once  stopped  the 
game,  took  his  green  bag  and  was  off. 

"  And  he  was  just  as  fond  of  playing  with  you  as  he 
ever  was  with  us  ;  and  when  you  were  brought  into 
the  city  from  Dorchester  and  were  the  centre  of  an  ad 
miring  group  of  uncles  and  aunts,  grandpapa  would 
dart  in  and  catch  you  up  and  run  with  you  in  his  arms 
to  the  library,  and  then  he  would  lock  the  door  so  as 
to  have  you  all  to  himself,  and  sometimes  we  would 
peep  in  and  see  him  lying  on  the  floor  to  let  you  have 
a  free  pull  at  his  curls,  or  he. would  show  you  pictures, 
or  chase  you  about  the  room ;  until  having  expended 
from  half  an  hour  to  an  hour  in  this  way  he  would 
return  you  to  me,  saying  he  didn't  think  much  of  you 
any  way,  and  couldn't  for  his  life  see  what  there  was 
about  you  that  attracted  people  ;  that  he'd  had  you  in 
the  library  for  an  hour,  and  there  was  nothing  satis 
factory  about  you. 

"  He  used  to  love  to  have  us  sing  to  him,  and  there 
was  hardly  a  day  when  he  did  not  steal  a  little  time  to 
hear  some  of  his  favorites,  and  never  a  Sunday  evening 
passed  without  our  singing,  all  together,  the  hymns  and 
chants  he  loved  so  well.  I  can  hear  him  now  calling 
for  one  after  another,  and  for  the  last,  '  Now,  children, 
let  us  have  China :  sing  up  loud  and  clear.'  —  And 
such  good  times  we  used  to  have  at  dinner  with  him, 
and  how  with  all  the  fun  he  would  try  to  teach  us 
something,  and  often  he  would  call  out, '  Not  a  child 
at  this  table,  I  suppose,  can  tell  me  where  this  line 
comes  from  ; '  and  then  he  would  repeat  it,  and  perhaps 
one  of  us  would  be  fortunate  enough  to  know,  and  if 


CHAP.  XI.]  HOME-LIFE.  443 

all  did,  which  sometimes  happened,  you  can  imagine 
what  a  noise  we  made,  calling  it  out  all  together.  It 
did  not  trouble  him  at  all  when  we  would  talk  and 
discuss  among  ourselves,  and  he  would  take  an  interest 
in  each  one's  particular  views  from  oldest  to  youngest. 

"  He  wanted  us  to  like  books,  and  always  gave  them 
to  us  for  our  Christmas  and  birthday  presents,  and  he 
made  these  come  round  pretty  often  too.  I  remember 
feeling  something  hard  under  my  pillow  one  night,  and 
took  out  a  book,  which  proved  to  be  a  beautiful  Eng 
lish  edition  of  Miss  Edgeworth's  Moral  Tales,  bound 
in  purple  morocco  !  How  often  he  used  to  say  to  us, 
4  Be  good  children  ;  be  accurate  and  honest,  and  love 
your  books.' 

"  He  was  always  so  sympathizing  and  generous  when 
any  one  was  in  trouble  or  difficulty,  and  would  never 
fail  to  help  them  if  they  applied  to  him,  and  some  times 
he  helped  the  wrong  one.  We  used  to  laugh  at  him  a 
great  deal  whenever  he  was  imposed  upon.  Once  espe 
cially  I  remember,  when  we  were  all  seated  at  the  dinner- 
table,  the  servant  handed  him  a  card  upon  which  was 
written  a  gentleman's  name,  with  his  title  6  Chief  Jus 
tice  of  Arkansas.'  So  grandpapa  left  the  table  and 
went  into  the  library  where  the  gentleman  was  waiting, 
and  after  being  absent  a  short  time  returned,  and  told 
us  that  the  Chief  Justice  seemed  very  glad  to  meet  him 
again,  and  said  he  remembered  seeing  him  very  often  in 
Washington.  I  shall  never  forget  how  troubled  an  ex 
pression  he  had  when  he  said  to  grandmamma,  i  Helen, 
I  was  mortified  that  I  had  quite  forgotten  him ; '  and 
then  he  went  on  to  say  that  the  Chief  Justice  had  been 
very  unfortunate  in  losing  his  money,  and  as  he  was 
quite  a  stranger  he  had  no  one  to  call  upon,  and  apolo- 


444  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

gized  over  and  over  again  for  the  liberty  he  was  taking, 
which  your  grandpapa  wouldn't  listen  to  at  all,  and 
assured  him  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  assist  him.  So 
the  Chief  Justice  retired  with  renewed  thanks,  prom 
ising  to  repay  just  as  soon  as  he  should  hear  from  his 
friends,  which  would  be  in  a  day  or  two.  But  days 
and  months  and  years  rolled  away,  and  the  gentleman 
quite  forgot  his  promises,  or  else  never  heard  from  his 
friends,  which  is  quite  sad  to  think  of.  In  the  mean 
time  we  were  never  tired  of  asking  him, '  Have  you 
heard  lately  from  your  friend  the  Chief  Justice  of  Ar 
kansas  ? ' 

"  Whenever  he  went  away  from  home,  which  he 
often  had  to  do,  he  would  send  us  such  nice  letters ;  and 
he  tried  to  print  them  for  us,  as  his  writing  was  just  a 
little  bit  hard  to  read.  Many  wiser  heads  than  ours 
would  have  puzzled  long  even  over  his  printing,  but  in 
the  great  red  seal  of  the  letter  we  would  almost  always 
find  a  silver  quarter  of  a  dollar,  which  seemed  a  for 
tune  to  us. 

"  He  never  was  too  weary,  or  busy,  or  sick,  to  have 
us  near  him ;  and  one  of  the  earliest  memories  I  have 
is  that  of  seeing  him  at  his  high  desk,  where  he  always 
wrote  standing,  with  my  little  three-year-old  sister, 
whom  you  never  saw,  sitting  on  his  shoulder  playing 
with  his  curls,  her  golden  hair  floating  about  her  face 
and  his. 

"  We  children  used  to  have  very  fierce  wordy  war 
fare  with  our  playmates  as  to  the  merits  of  eur  re 
spective  parents ;  and  I  well  remember  that  one  little 
girl  (whom  I'm  afraid  I  quite  hated  for  it)  convin 
cingly  showed  her  father  to  be  taller  and  stronger,  and 
that  he  had  more  hair,  and  longer  whiskers,  and  more 


CHAP.  XL]  HOME-LIFE.  445 

of  all  the  other  virtues,  than  your  grandpapa,  when  I 
brought  the  dispute  to  a  triumphant  conclusion  by  de 
claring  that  my  father  could  repeat  the  story  of  The 
House  that  Jack  "built  quicker  than  her  father  could, 
which  she  was  unable  to  deny,  because  her  father  had 
never  told  it  to  her  at  all,  and  so,  all  comparison  being 
out  of  the  question,  —  since  my  father  could  do  some 
thing  well  which  her  father  never  had  done  in  any 
way,  —  I  remained  the  victor. 

"  When  your  grandmamma  went  away  on  a  visit,  the 
amusing  of  us  children  and  keeping  us  happy  was 
grandpapa's  work.  And  pretty  hard  work  it  must 
sometimes  have  been,  for  we  would  insist  on  his  writ 
ing  stories  and  songs  ;  and  on  one  occasion  he  kept  us 
very  merry  the  whole  evening  till  bed-time,  by  writing 
a  parody  on  Wordsworth's  4  Pet  Lamb,'  writing  a 
verse  when  we  had  got  to  be  unusually  turbulent,  and 
thus  stilling  the  tempest  of  noise  during  the  time  we 
took  to  read  and  learn  it.  We  all  thought  that  he  had 
unlimited  powers,  and  that  Scott  was  poor  compared 
with  the  stories  which  he  composed.  I  should  really 
like  very  much  to  read  one  of  them  now,  and  see  what 
it  was  that  so  fascinated  us. 

"  He  was  very  particular  as  to  the  books  we  read, 
and  it  used  to  seem  to  me  as  though  almost  every 
novel  I  could  lay  my  hands  upon  had  a  4  bad  tone ' 
to  it.  Our  staples  were  Scott,  Barbauld,  and  Edgeworth. 
He  always  lured  us  to  read  poetry,  especially  the 
Bible,  Shakspeare,  Cowper,  and  Wordsworth.  He  al 
ways  contrived  to  give  us  the  idea,  that  when  a  boy  he 
was  very  fond  of  these  mature  writers,  but  once  con 
fessed  that  he  perfectly  well  remembered  his  thrill  of 
pleasure  upon  taking  up  a  novel  which  began  with 


446  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

'  "Villain,  beware,"  exclaimed  a  voice ' !  When  we  were 
older  we  read  and  were  very  fond  of  Tennyson,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning,  whom  he,  to  vex  iis,  and 
pretending  not  to  know,  would  always  call  the  Brown- 
riggs.  He  would  gently  stimulate  our  enthusiasm  by 
denying  their  merits,  and  making  us  find  out  and  ex 
press  in  language  the  reason  for  the  faith  that  was  in 
us ;  and  then,  after  a  hard  contest,  he  would  always 
give  in  and  say,  '  Well,  well,  there  is  something  in 
these  Brownriggs,  after  all,'  and  adding,  '  in  poetry 
there  are  many  mansions.'  Then  he  would  make  us 
read  again  such  passages  as  had  struck  him.  He  al 
ways,  or  almost  always,  realized  such  lines  by  applying 
them  to.  some  action  or  some  person ;  as,  for  example, 
he  stopped  me  at  Mr.  Browning's  lines, 

'  Lived  in  his  mild  and  magnificent  eye, 
Learned  his  great  language,  caught  his  clear  accents, 
Made  him  our  pattern  to  live  and  to  die/ 

and  said,  "  What  a  picture  of  Mr.  Webster  that  is !  " 
To  the 'last  day  of  his  life  he  teased  us  in  a  good- 
natured  way,  and  we  teased  back  again ;  but  my  re 
membrance  is  that  he  almost  always  came  off  victor. 
On  one  occasion  your  Aunt  Helen  had  sat  up  quite  late 
in  the  evening  to  finish  a  composition,  which  she  handed 
to  him  the  next  morning  for  correction  and  criticism, 
saying  she  was  so  wearied  in  writing  it  that  she  had 
slept  after  it  for  twelve  hours.  He  read  it  carefully, 
and  handed  it  to  her,  saying,  with  great  gravity,  '  I 
don't  wonder  at  your  long  sleep  after  such  an  effort  : 
history  has  but  one  parallel,  the  sleep  of  the  elder 
Pitt  after  one  of  his  great  speeches.' 

"  He  worked  more  continuously  than  any  one  I  have 


CHAP.  XI.]  ,      HOME-LIFE.  447 

ever  seen,  so  that,  finally,  incessant  labor  got  to  be  a 
necessity.  Nothing  in  the  shape  of  pleasure  would  in 
duce  him  to  be  away  from  his  library  for  more  than  a 
day  or  two  at  a  time  ;  and  when  we  wanted  him,  when 
quite  ill,  to  pass  a  week  with  us  in  the  middle  of  the 
summer  at  the  seashore,  he  said  '  A  week  !  why  in 
forty-eight  hours  the  only  question  left  would  be, 
Where  is  the  highest  rock  and  the  deepest  water  ? '  " 

One  cannot  help  seeing  from  these  pictures  for  a  child 
that  Mr.  Choate's  life  at  home  was  the  most  hearty, 
cheerful,  and  affectionate  that  could  be  imagined.  He 
was  kind,  familiar,  and  playful  with  his  children,  full 
of  jocoseness,  sensitive,  and  with  a  feminine  suscep 
tibility  and  tact.  When  his  daughters,  from  out  of 
town,  came  into  the  house,  if  he  were  in  his  library, 
unless  they  came  to  see  him  at  once,  he  would  gener 
ally  walk  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  call  their  at 
tention  for  a  moment  to  himself,  by  uttering  some 
jocose  remark,  or  a  familiar  quotation,  a  little  changed 
to  suit  his  purpose,  such  as  "  Did  Ossian  hear  a  voice  ?  " 
then,  after  exchanging  a  few  words,  would  retreat  to 
his  work. 

This  same  affectionateness  of  nature,  as  of  a  woman, 
was  warmly  manifested  towards  all  his  relatives.  His 
mother  was  tenderly  reverenced  and  loved,  and  he 
never  failed  to  minister  in  all  possible  ways  to  her 
comfort.  On  her  death,  though  not  unexpected,  since 
she  had  attained  the  advanced  age  of  more  than  eighty, 
he  wrote  to  his  brother,  "  I  am  stricken  with  this  news, 
as  if  I  had*Lot  known  it  was  so  inevitable  and  so  near. 
Dear,  dear  mother,  —  the  best  of  human  beings,  the 
humblest,  most  patient,  truest  to  every  duty  of  her 


448  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XL 

lot.     My  heart  bleeds  that  I  could  not  have  seen  her 
again." 

He  was  very  fond  of  music,  especially  sacred 
music.  Every  Sunday  evening,  after  tea,  he  would 
gather  his  children  around  the  piano,  and  occa 
sionally  joining,  have  them  sing  to  him  the  old  psalm- 
tunes  and  chants.  In  his  last  illness,  when  at  Dor 
chester,  his  children  would  sing  to  him  almost  every 
night.  It  was  not  thought  of  till  he  had  been  there 
for  a  week  or  two,  but  one  evening  they  all  sang  at  his 
request,  and  he  slept  much  better  after  it  than  he 
had  done  for  a  long  time.  Every  night  after  that  the 
concert  was  repeated.  He  loved  martial,  stirring 
music,  too.  "  The  Marseillaise,"  and  "  God  save  the 
Emperor,"  and  all  national  airs,  were  favorites.  A 
Turkish  march  (so  called)  always  pleased  him,  be 
cause,  under  its  little  spell,  he  saw  "  The  Turkish 
moons  wandering  in  disarray."  It  always  troubled 
him  that  there  was  no  Italian  national  air.  His  imag 
ination  gave  life  to  whatever  he  read,  and  he  instinct 
ively  realized  the  pictures  of  poets  and  the  narratives 
of  historians.  Reading  Campbell's  "  Battle  of  the 
Baltic,"  he  remarked  on  the  line, 

"  It  was  ten  of  April  morn  by  the  chime," 

how  vividly  it  brought  to  one's  mind  the  peaceful,  calm 
proximity  of  the  city,  —  the  water's  unruffled  surface, 
—  the  piers  crowded  with  anxious  faces  to  witness  the 
great  sea-fight,  as  the  sound  of  the  bells  of  Copenhagen 
came  over  the  waters. 

One  of  his  daughters  said  to  him,  that  "  The  Sol 
dier's  Dream  "  was  a  sad  thing  to  her,  owing  to  the 
uncertainty  whether  the  dream  was  ever  realized.  He 


CHAP.  XI.]  GENTLENESS.  449 

said  his  understanding  of  it  was,  that  "  Thrice  ere  the 
morning  I  dreamt  it  again  "  signified  that  it  came  to 
pass,  referring  in  proof  to  some  popular  belief  in  a 
dream  thrice  dreamed  before  morning  coming  true. 

He  often  read  aloud  passages  from  the  newspapers 
which  interested  him,  interspersing  them  with  remarks 
or  familiar  quotations.  At  the  time  of  Louis  Phil 
ippe's  flight,  he  read  the  account  at  table,  uttering 
after  every  few  sentences,  as  if  it  were  in  the  paper, 
"  What  shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue  ! " 
So,  after  the  death  of  Nicholas  he  read  it  aloud,  add 
ing  in  the  same  tone  a  verse  of  the  Psalms  :  "  I  have 
said  ye  are  gods,  but  ye  shall  die  like  men  and  perish 
like  one  of  the  princes." 

He  had  more  than  a  feminine  sensitiveness  to  phy 
sical  suffering.  From  this,  some  presumed  to  doubt 
his  courage,  though  I  know  not  with  what  reason. 
His  moral  courage  certainly  could  not  be  questioned. 
He  was  bold  enough  for  his  clients,  and  his  independ 
ence  in  forming  and  maintaining  his  political  creed 
was  thought  by  some  of  his  friends  to  be  carried  even 
to  an  extreme. 

It  seemed  as  if  nobody  was  ever  so  gentle  and 
sweet-hearted  and  tender  of  others  as  he.  And  when 
we  consider  the  constant  provocations  of  his  profession, 

—  his  natural  excitability,  —  the  ardor  with  which  he 
threw  himself  into  a  case,  —  the  vigor  and  tenacity  of 
purpose  with  which  he  fought  his  battles,  —  as  well  as 
his  extreme  sensitiveness  to  sharp  and  unkind  words, 

—  it  seems  little  less  than  a  miracle.     "He  lavished 
his  good  nature,"  it  was  truly  said,  "  upon  all  around 
him,  —  in  the  court  and  the  office,  —  upon  students, 
witnesses,  servants,  strangers."     He  was  so  reluctant 

29 


450  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

to  inflict  pain  that  he  would  long  endure  an  annoyance, 
—  as  of  a  troublesome  and  pertinacious  visitor,  —  or 
put  himself  to  considerable  inconvenience  in  escaping 
from  it,  rather  than  to  wound  the  feelings  of  another 
by  a  suggestion. 

Though  sometime  ruffled,  he 

"  Carried  anger  as  the  flint  bears  fire,  _ 

Which,  much  enforced,  shows  a  hasty  spark, 
And  straight  is  cold  again." 

He  never  spoke  ill  of  the  absent,  nor  would  suffer  others 
to  do  so  in  his  presence.  He  was  affectionate,  obliging, 
desirous  to  make  every  one  about  him  happy,  —  with 
strong  sympathy  for  any  one  in  trouble.  Hence  it 
was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  refuse  a  client  in 
distress  who  strongly  desired  his  aid. 

Dr.  Adams,  in  his  Funeral  Address,  tells  a  character 
istic  little  anecdote.  "  He  had  not  walked  far,  one 
morning  a  few  years  ago,  he  said,  and  gave  as  a  reason, 
that  his  attention  was  taken  by  a  company  of  those 
large  creeping  things  which  lie  on  their  backs  in  the 
paths  as  soon  as  the  light  strikes  them.  *  But  of  what 
use  was  it  for  you  to  help  them  over  with  your  cane, 
knowing  that  they  would  become  supine  again  ?'•  —  '! 
gave  them  a  fair  start  in  life,'  he  said,  '  and  my  re 
sponsibility  was  at  an  end/  He  probably  helped  to 
place  more  people  on  their  feet  than  otherwise  ;  and 
no  one  has  enjoyed  it  more  than  he." 

Though  friendly  with  all,  he  had  few  or  no  intimates. 
He  did  not,  as  has  been  said,  permit  himself  to  in 
dulge  freely  in  what  is  called  "  society,"  finding  the 
draught  too  much  upon  his  leisure  and  his  strength ; 
yet  few  received  or  conferred  more  pleasure  in  the  un 
restrained  freedom  of  conversation. 


CHAP.  XI.]  CONVERSATIONAL  POWER.  451 

"  Mr.  Choate's  conversational  power,"  says  Chief 
Justice  Chapman,  "  was  scarcely  less  remarkable  than 
his  forensic  power.  It  was  by  no  means  limited  to  the 
subject  of  oratory.  Indeed,  so  far  as  my  acquaintance 
with  him  is  concerned,  he  never  made  that  a  prominent 
topic  of  conversation ;  but  I  recollect  one  of  his  con 
versations  on  eloquence.  He  was  talking  of  Burke's 
speeches,  of  which  he  was  known  to  be  a  great  admirer, 
and  remarked  to  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  extolling 
Burke  above  all  other  men,  that  he  thought  on  the 
whole  that  the  most  eloquent  and  mellifluous  talk  that 
was  ever  put  together  in  the  English  language  was  the 
speech  of  Mr.  Standfast  in  the  river.  I  went  home 
and  read  the  speech  soon  afterwards,  and  I  confess  I 
appreciated  John  Bunyan's  eloquence  as  I  never  had 
done  before. 

"  But  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  Mr.  Choate  had 
any  conversational  hobby  of  any  kind.  He  was  inter 
ested  in  all  current  topics,  —  political,  social,  moral, 
or  religious, —  and  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  in  liter 
ature,  history,  philosophy,  or  jurisprudence,  that  he  did 
not  know ;  and  in  his  private  conversation  I  always 
thought  he  was  very  frank.  When  I  called  on  him, 
whether  alone  or  with  a  friend,  I  generally  found  him 
standing  at  his  desk,  pen  in  hand.  The  moment  he 
left  it,  he  turned  with  freshness  to  whatever  topic  came 
up ;  generally  throwing  himself  upon  his  lounge,  and 
entering  into  general  conversation,  or  the  details  of  a 
new  case,  as  if  it  were  a  recreation.  He  was  remark 
ably  original  and  brilliant  in  his  badinage  ;  and  I  have 
thought  he  was  rather  fond  of  saying  in  playfulness 
what  he  would  not  have  said  seriously,  and  what  it 
would  be  unjust  towards  him  to  repeat,  —  though  he 


452  MEMOIR   OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.  [CHAP.  XI. 

never  transcended  the  limits  of  delicacy  and  good 
taste.  On  a  few  occasions  his  conversation  turned  on 
religious  faith  and  doctrines.  I  have  never  met  with 
a  layman  whom  I  thought  to  be  more  familiar  with 
theological  science  than  he.  I  am  sure  he  understood 
the  points  on  which  the  debates  of  the  present  day 
turn,  and  the  arguments  by  which  controverted  doc 
trines  are  supported.  I  think  he  was  a  thorough  be 
liever  in  the  doctrines  preached  by  his  pastor,  Rev. 
Dr.  Adams.  He  was  an  admirer  of  Edwards,  and  on 
one^  occasion  he  spoke  familiarly  of  his  '  History  of 
Redemption'  and  his  i  Treatise  on  the  Will.'  He  had 
at  his  tongue's  end  a  refutation  of  Pantheism,  and 
talked  freely  of  its  logical  and  moral  bearings.  Yet, 
while  he  seemed  to  be  master  of  all  the  subtleties  of 
polemic  debates,  he  never  seemed  inclined  to  contro 
versy  ;  and  I  can  readily  believe  that  he  would  grace 
fully  and  skilfully  turn  the  subject  aside  when  in 
conversation  with  a  gentleman  holding  theological 
opinions  widely  different  from  his  own.  .  .  . 

"  Among  other  things  I  have  heard  him  express  a 
high  opinion  of  the  ecclesiastical  organization  and 
theological  system  of  the  old  Puritans,  as  having  con 
tributed  largely  to  stamp  upon  New  England  character 
the  best  of  its  peculiar  features." 

It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  among  his  many  studies 
he  had  not  neglected  a  somewhat  critical  examination 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  He  was  quite  familiar  with 
the  arguments  for  the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of 
the  various  books,  even  to  the  minor  Epistles  of  Paul ; 
and  not  many  clergymen  probably  could  readily  bring 
up  such  an  array  of  learning  on  this  subject  as  he  had 
at  perfect  command. 


CHAP.  XI.]  HIS  HANDWRITING.  453 

Mr.  Choate's  handwriting  was  famous  for  obscurity. 
It  was  impossible  for  one  not  familiar  with  it  to  deci 
pher  its  intricacies,  and  in  his  rapid  notes,  with  abbre 
viations  and  unfinished  words,  for  any  one  but  himself 
to  determine  the  meaning  ;  and  even  he,  when  the  sub 
ject  was  forgotten,  sometimes  was  at  a  loss.  And  yet, 
when  closely  examined,  it  will  be  seen  not  to  be  a 
careless  or  stiff  or  angular  scrawl ;  each  letter  is  gov 
erned  by  a  law  and  seems  striving  to  conform  to  the 
normal  type ;  and  it  has  been  observed  by  one  much 
accustomed  to  criticise  penmanship,  the  lines  have  cer 
tain  flowing,  easy,  and  graceful  curves,  which  give  a 
kind  of  artistic  beauty. 

"  Mr.  Sprague  (now  Judge  Sprague)  and  I,"  wrote 
a  distinguished  member  of  the  Boston  bar,  Hon.  C.  G. 
Loring,  "  were  trying  a  case  against  Mr.  Choate. 
Coming  into  the  Court  one  morning  we  found  a  sheet 
of  paper  with  his  scrawls  upon  it,  and  I  tried  to  read 
it,  and  as  I  thought  made  it  out.  I  handed  it  to  S., 
and  after  some  difficulty  he  read  it,  but  quite  differently. 
Mr.  C.  P.  Curtis  coming  along  I  handed  it  to  him,  and 
he  read  it,  but  unlike  both  of  us.  Choate  entering,  I 
said  to  him,  '  What  in  the  world  is  this  which  we  can't 
make  out  ? '  '  Why,'  said  he,  £  what's  the  trouble  ? 
That's  as  plain  as  Roman  print;'  and  proceeded  to 
read  it  differently  from  us  all" 

Mr.  Choate  was  a  little  more  than  six  feet  in  height ; 
his  frame  robust,  strong,  and  erect ;  his  walk  rapid, 
yet  easy  and  graceful,  and  with  a  force,  too,  that 
seemed  to  bear  onward  not  only  himself  but  all  about 
him ;  his  head  was  covered  with  a  profusion  of  black 
curling  hair,  to  the  last  with  but  a  slight  sprinkle  of 
gray  ;  his  eye  was  dark,  large,  and,  when  quiet,  with 


454  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE,          [CHAP.  XI. 

an  introverted,  meditative  look,  or  an  expression 
dreamy  and  rapt,  as  of  one  who  saw  afar  off  what  you 
could  not  see;1  his  smile  was  fascinating,  and  his 
whole  manner  marked  with  peculiar  and  inimitable 
grace.  "  He  gave  you  a  chair,"  said  Rev.  Dr.  Adams 
in  his  Funeral  Address,  "  as  no  one  else  would  do  it. 
He  persuaded  you  at  his  table  to  receive  something 
from  him,  in  a  way  that  nothing  so  gross  as  language 
can  describe.  He  treated  every  man  as  though  he 
were  a  gentleman ;  and  he  treated  every  gentleman 
almost  as  he  would  a  lady."  His  whole  appearance 
was  distinguished ;  and  though  he  always,  with  in 
stinctive  modesty,  avoided  notice,  he  never  failed  to 
attract  it  even  among  strangers. 

With  the  exception  of  the  time  when  he  suffered 
from  the  accident  to  his  knee,  he  was  never  seriously 
ill ;  but  during  his  whole  life  he  was  subject  to  frequent 
and  severe  headaches,  which  for  the  time  quite  dis 
abled  him.  His  nervous  system  was  always  in  a  state 
of  excitement ;  his  brain  was  never  at  rest,  —  the  per- 
fervidum  ingenium  allowing  him  no  quiet.  Liberal  of 
work,  impatient  of  repose,  intense  in  action,  sparing  of 
recreation, —  the  wonder  is  that  his  powers  had  not 
earlier  given  way,  perhaps  with  a  sudden  crash,  or 
with  a  longer,  more  wearisome,  more  mournful  descent 
to  the  dark  valley.  For  many  years  before  his  death, 
his  countenance  was  haggard,  and  the  lines  became 
deeper  and  deeper  with  age.  A  vague  rumor  began  to 

1  When  aroused  or  interested,  his  eye  gleamed  and  was  very 
powerful.  A  woman,  who  had  some  reputation  as  a  fortune-teller, 
once  came  to  consult  him.  She  had  not  proceeded  far  in  her  story 
before  she  suddenly  broke  off  with  the  exclamation,  "  Take  them  eyes 
off  of  me,  Mr.  Choate,  take  them  witch  eyes  off  of  me,  or  I  can't 
go  on." 


CHAP.  XL]  HIS  RELIGIOUS  OPINIONS.  455 

assume  consistency,  that  he  indulged  in  the  use  of 
opium.  The  conjecture  was  entirely  false.  His  physi 
cians  have  given  me  their  direct  testimony  on  this 
point.  A  Dover's  powder  would  at  any  time  put  him 
to  sleep.  If  farther  proof  were  needed,  we  have  it  in 
his  never-ceasing  labors,  in  the  constant  command  of 
his  faculties,  early  and  late,  which  failed  only  with  his 
life,  and  in  his  own  positive  denial  of  the  truth  of  the 
injurious  report.  He  was  temperate,  and  almost  ab 
stemious  in  eating  and  drinking ;  rarely  indulging 
in  stimulants,  and  never  using  them  in  excess. 

During  the  latter  years  of  Mr.  Choate's  life,  his 
mind,  never  indifferent  to  religious  subjects,  was  in 
clined  more  than  ever  to  the  consideration  of  man's 
nature  and  destiny,  his  moral  duties,  and  his  relations 
to  God.  He  had  an  implicit  faith  in  the  Christian  re 
ligion  ;  and  felt  a  confidence  so  sure  in  that  form  of  it 
which  he  had  been  early  taught,  that  he  did  not  care 
to  disturb  his  belief  by  rash  and  objectless  speculation. 
He  regarded  the  ancient  symbols,  especially  as  held  by 
the  Fathers  of  New  England,  with  profound  respect 
and  acquiescence.  He  felt  the  need  of  some  creed 
or  formula  of  religious  belief  which  should  hold  the 
mind  firm  and  unwavering  amidst  the  vagaries  and 
fluctuations  of  human  opinions;  and  a  serious  devia 
tion  from  the  old  and  established  ways  was  fraught 
with  he  knew  not  how  much  error. 

He  retained  also  an  instinctive  regard  for  the  old 
habits  and  practices  of  his  father's  house.  Though  ex 
tremely  indulgent,  he  preferred  to  have  his  children  at 
home  and  quiet  on  a  Saturday  evening,  and  engaged  in 
thoughtful  and  serious  employments.  When  prayers 
were  read  in  the  family,  he  was  particular  that  all 


456  MEMOIR  OF  RUFUS   CHOATE.         [CHAP.  XI. 

should  be  present.  Though  never  making  a  public 
profession  of  religious  faith,  he  often  expressed  satis 
faction  when  others  did  so,  and  showed  beyond  mistake, 
in  many  ways,  his  respect  and  veneration  for  a  truly 
religious  character.  His  religious  reading,  not  only  of 
speculative  and  philosophical,  but  of  practical  works, 
was  quite  general,  and  for  many  of  his  later  years, 
constant  and  habitual.  Unlike  many  men  of  eminence, 
he  was  specially  averse  to  conversing  about  himself. 
There  was  a  sacred  chamber  in  his  soul  which  he 
opened  only  to  a  few  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  and 
hardly  to  them.  There  he  must  be  safe  from  the  in 
trusion,  even  of  those  who  might  have  some  claim  to 
enter.  In  personal  intercourse,  up  to  a  certain  point, 
he  seemed  without  reserve,  as  he  really  was  ;  beyond 
it,  the  most  astute  diplomatist  could  not  be  more  im 
penetrable  or  elusive.  This  was  not  the  result  of  cal 
culation  or  of  will,  but  instinctive,  —  a  part  of  his 
idiosyncrasy.  It  was  surprising,  and  almost  wonder 
ful,  with  what  ease  and  certainty  he  repelled  an  at 
tempt  to  penetrate  the  sanctuary  of  his  feelings,  and 
yet  with  such  gentleness  that  the  intruder  at  first 
hardly  perceived  it,  and  only  discovered  on  reflection 
that  he  had  not  succeeded.  He  seldom  asked  advice, 
or  depended  on  the  judgment  of  others,  in  determining 
his  own  course  of  action.  If  this  was  true  with  rela 
tion  to  social  or  public  life,  it  was  more  emphatically  true 
of  his  religious  faith.  His  personal  belief  and  hopes  you 
must  infer  from  what  he  was,  from  the  affections  and  sen 
timents  which  he  habitually  expressed,  from  the  serious 
tenor  of  his  life,  and  from  his  rare  and  casual  conver 
sations  with  the  few  who  were  most  in  sympathy  with 
him.  To  those  with  whom  he  disagreed  he  was  always 


CHAP.  XL]  THE   END.  457 

courteous  and  deferential,  and  might  sometimes  even 
appear  indifferent  as  to  theological  opinions  ;  but  a  dis 
cussion  with  such  was  impossible.  The  faith  of  his 
father  and  mother  was  his  to  the  last,  and  perhaps 
more  decidedly  at  the  last  than  ever  before. 

He  left  us  still  in  the  prime  and  vigor  of  his  days,  at 
an  age  when  many  retire  from  the  heated  strifes  of  the 
summer  of  life  to  a  serener  autumn.  But  it  is  doubt 
ful  whether  he  could  have  been  contented  without 
labor,  and  whether  he  would  not  of  necessity  have 
continued  at  his  post  till  mind  or  body  gave  way.  He 
was  spared  longer  than  many  whose  names  will  always 
be  cherished,  —  longer  than  James  Otis,  longer  than 
Fisher  Ames,  longer  than  Alexander  Hamilton,  or 
William  Pinkney,  or  Samuel  Dexter,  or  Justice  Tal- 
fourd.  He  died  in  the  fulness  of  his  fame,  having 
won  the  universal  respect  and  love  of  his  contempora 
ries.  He  died  before  his  patriotic  fears  were  in  any 
measure  realized  ;  the  country  which  he  so  profoundly 
loved  still  united ;  no  treason  consummated ;  no  crime 
against  the  fairest  hopes  of  the  world  actually  com 
mitted  ;  no  rash  counsels  carried  over  into  desperate 
act ;  no  stripe  polluted  or  erased,  no  star  blotted  out, 
from  the  flag  which  to  the  last  was  his  joy  and  pride. 


APPENDIX. 


SINCE  the  first  edition  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Choate  was  pub 
lished,  three  members  of  his  family,  each  of  whom  had  ren 
dered  some  special  service  in  the  preparation  of  it,  have  passed 
away.  First  of  these  was  Mrs.  Choate.  She  was  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  Hon.  Mills  Olcott,  of  Hanover,  N.H.,  for  many 
years  a  prominent  member  of  the  New  Hampshire  Bar,  a 
gentleman  of  great  weight  of  character  and  influence,  distin 
guished  for  intelligence,  sagacity,  and  wisdom  in  counsel,  and 
early  taking  a  prominent  part  in  enterprises  tending  to  de 
velop  the  resources  of  the  State.  He  was  remarkable  also  for 
richness  of  humor,  for  urbanity  and  gentle  courtesy,  which 
rendered  his  society  extremely  attractive.  His  acquaintance 
with  persons  of  distinction,  both  in  and  out  of  the  State,  was 
large,  and  his  house  was  the  seat  of  constant  and  genial  hos 
pitality. 

The  native  gentleness  and  refinement  of  Mrs.  Choate's 
mind,  encouraged  and  developed  under  the  influences  of  such 
a  home,  were  carried  with  her  through  life.  Her  uniform 
self-control,  serenity,  and  repose,  diffused  a  beautiful  quietness 
and  peace  all  around  her,  and  served  sometimes  to  conceal, 
except  from  those  who  knew  her  intimately,  the  quick  in 
sight  and  sound  judgment  which  gave  weight  and  balance  to 
her  mind.  Added  to  this  was  a  transparent  sincerity  and 
singular  pureness  and  disinterestedness,  unaffected  by  change 
of  scene  or  circumstance,  by  prosperity  or  sorrow,  which  won 
the  confidence  and  respect  as  well  as  the  love  of  all  who  knew 


460  APPENDIX. 

her.  Underlying  all,  was  her  religious  faith  and  hope,  early 
assumed,  simple  and  undoubting  though  unobtrusive,  cover 
ing  her  with  a  singular  grace  and  beauty  of  character,  and 
perpetually  shedding  its  happy  influence  over  her  household. 
It  is  surprising  what  security  and  strength  such  a  character 
unconsciously  imparts  to  all  who  come  within  its  sphere. 
"  Always  firm,"  it  was  truly  said  of  her,  <l  always  serene,  she 
was  the  sheet-anchor  of  strength  and  hope  to  all  who  clung 
to  her  for  happiness  and  courage  through  life."  None  felt 
the  blessing  of  this  more  than  her  husband,  whose  immense 
nervous  force,  and  constant  and  harassing  labors,  needed  the 
repose  of  such  a  home,  and  to  rest,  sometimes,  upon  the  quiet 
and  inwardly  sustained  strength  of  such  a  pure  spirit. 

She  died  suddenly,  after  a  brief  illness,  on  the  8th  of 
December,  18G4. 

Rufus  Choatc,  Jr.,  the  only  son,  for  whom  his  father  had  such 
hopes,  after  graduating  with  honor  at  Amhcrst  College,  studied 
the  law  and  entered  upon  its  practice  in  Boston.  On  the  out 
break  of  the  war  he  enlisted  in  the  Massachusetts  Second, 
and  followed  its  fortunes,  till  a  painful  neuralgic  affection, 
from  which  he  never  fully  recovered,  compelled  him  to  return 
home.  In  the  earlier  skirmishes  and  battles,  and  in  the  still 
more  trying  marches  and  disheartening  delays,  he  failed  in 
no  duty.  He  was  in  the  fight  at  Cedar  Mountain ;  and, 
though  in  the  thickest  of  it,  was  one  of  the  few  who  escaped 
unharmed.  "  All  our  officers,"  says  a  correspondent  of  the 
"  New  York  Evening  Post,"  in  speaking  of  this  battle,  "  be 
haved  nobly.  Those  who  ought  to  have  staid  away  wouldn't. 
Goodwin,  Gary,  Choate,  and  Stephen  Perkins  were  all  quite 
ill,  but  would  not  stay  away  from  the  fight.  Choate  is  the 
only  one  of  the  four  not  killed.  Goodwin  could  not  keep  up 
with  the  regiment ;  but  I  saw  him  toiling  up  the  hill  some 
distance  behind,  with  the  assistance  of  his  servant.  He  had 
hardly  reached  the  front  when  he  was  killed.  It  was  splendid 
to  see  those  sick  fellows  walk  right  up  into  that  shower  of 
bullets,  as  if  it  were  so  much  rain. 


APPENDIX.  461 

"  Yesterday  I  went  over  the  battle-field  with  the  General. 
The  first  man  I  recognized  was  Gary.  He  was  lying  on  his 
back,  with  his  head  on  a  piece  of  wood.  He  looked  calm  and 
peaceful,  as  if  he  were  merely  asleep.  His  face  was  beauti 
ful,  and  I  could  have  stood  and  looked  at  it  a  long  while. 
Next  we  found  Captain  Williams,  then  Goodwin,  Abbott, 
and  Perkins.  They  had  probably  been  killed  almost  in 
stantly,  while  Gary  lived  until  2  P.M.  of  the  day  after  the 
fight.  His  first  sergeant  was  shot  in  the  leg,  and  lay  by  him 
all  the  time.  He  says  he  was  very  quiet,  spoke  little,  and 
didn't  seem  to  suffer.  We  found  a  dipper  of  water,  which 
some  rebel  soldier  had  brought.  They  took  every  thing  from 
him  after  he  died,  but  returned  a  ring  and  locket  with  his 
wife's  miniature  to  the  sergeant. 

"  All  these  five  were  superior  men.  Every  one  in  the  reg 
iment  was  their  friend.  It  was  a  sad  day  to  us  when  they 
were  brought  in  dead,  and  they  cannot  be  replaced.  It  is 
hard  to  believe  that  we  shall  never  see  them  again,  after  hav 
ing  been  continually  together  more  than  a  year.  I  don't  re 
member  a  single  quarrel  of  any  importance  among  our  officers 
during  all  that  time." 

Mr.  Choate,  who  had  been  advanced  to  a  Captaincy,  was  at 
last  obliged  by  repeated  attacks  of  suffering,  which  entirely 
disabled  him,  to  resign  his  hardly  won  commission  and  leave 
the  army.  He  never  recovered  his  full  strength  ;  but,  after  a 
lingering  and  very  trying  illness,  died  on  the  15th  of  Jan 
uary,  1866. 

Major  Joseph  M.  Bell  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  Mr. 
Choate,  and  was  for  many  years  his  partner  in  business.  He 
was  the  son  of  the  Hon.  Joseph  Bell,  for  a  long  time  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  lawyers  in  New  Hampshire,  and  for 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  a  resident  of  Boston.  Major  Bell 
was  graduated  with  honor  at  Dartmouth  College,  and  after 
wards  studied  his  profession  in  Boston.  Of  quite  a  different 
temperament  and  nature  from  Mr.  Choate,  it  was  well  said, 


462  APPENDIX. 

that  "  his  thorough  mastery  of  the  law,  sure  discrimination, 
and  comprehensive  grasp  of  mind  were  of  the  utmost  value  to 
that  great  man  in  preparing  and  shaping  his  cases  before  the 
full  court,"  while  his  exact  method  and  habits  of  business 
were  of  great  service  in  keeping  the  complicated  affairs 
of  the  office  free  from  confusion,  and  moving  in  regular 
order. 

Although  by  education  and  conviction  a  Whig,  he  had 
voted  for  Mr.  Buchanan;  but  when  the  first  sound  of  the 
guns  from  Fort  Sumter  reached  the  North,  he  felt  that  the 
constitutional  doctrines  of  Webster  must  be  defended  at  all 
hazards,  and  he  at  once  prepared  to  enter  the  service.  When 
General  Butler  went  to  New  Orleans,  Mr.  Bell  was  selected 
as  a  member  of  his  staff,  and  soon  came  to  occupy  a  very 
prominent  position.  His  knowledge  of  law,  his  power  of 
adapting  himself  to  new  and  unexpected  emergencies,  his 
absolute  integrity,  his  decision  of  character,  and  independence 
made  him  invaluable  as  a  counsellor  and  judicial  officer;  and 
he  was  almost  immediately  promoted  to  the  responsible  posi 
tion  of  Provost  Judge,  which  then  included  the  most  impor 
tant  judicial  functions  of  the  State. 

"  Before  the  war  the  administration  of  justice  in  New 
Orleans  had  cost  over  $100,000  a  year.  For  the  pay  of  a  Ma 
jor  of  Cavalry,  Mr.  Bell,  during  General  Butler's  stay  there, 
administered  justice,  civil  and  military,  with  such  ability  and 
fairness  that  he  left  with  the  highest  respect  of  the  ablest  law 
yers  of  the  city  who  had  practised  before  him.  When  he  first 
held  his  court,  they  asked  him,  to  test  his  quality,  under  what 
code  he  proposed  to  practise.  His  answer  was,  'Mainly  under 
natural  law  and  general  orders.'  Questions  of  all  kinds, 
many  of  them  novel  and  of  large  importance,  especially  those 
affecting  the  rights  of  person  and  property  of  freedmen, 
rebels,  and  aliens,  he  met  with  that  vigor,  directness,  grasp, 
and  comprehensiveness  which  characterize  only  first-class  fac- 


APPENDIX.  463 

ulty.     His  mind  was  always  most  at  home  in  discussing  com 
plicated  cases  in  the  light  of  prime  governing  principles." l 

When  General  Butler  was  transferred  to  Virginia,  Major 
Bell  went  with  him ;  and  it  was  while  presiding  over  an  im 
portant  trial  at  Norfolk,  that  he  was  struck  with  a  partial 
paralysis.  He  was  able  after  a  while  to  return  home,  but  his 
health  was  shattered.  He  remained  an  invalid  till  his  death, 
Sept.  10,  1868. 

1  From  an  article  in  the  "  Boston  Advertiser,"  bearing  the  signa 
ture  (W.)  of  a  well-known  and  discriminating  writer. 


INDEX. 


ABBOTT,  ALFRED  A.,  Letter  to, 

346. 
AD  ois,  FAIRCIIILD  v.,  Case  of, 

238. 

ADAMS,  J.  Q.  416. 
ADAMS,  Kev.  Dr.  N.,  335,  450. 
ALGER,  Rev.  W.  R.,  413. 

Baltimore,  Whig   Convention  at, 

250. 
Bar  of  Essex,  35;  Meeting  of  the, 

352. 
Bar  of  Suffolk,  Meeting  of  the, 

352. 

BRIGHT,  JESSE  D.,  Letter  to,  144. 
BRINLEY,  Mrs.,  Letter  to,  149. 
British  Poets  of  the  19th  Century. 

Lecture  on  the,  289. 
BUCHANAN,  JAMES,  Letter  from, 

352. 
BUSH,  Rev.  GEORGE,  Letters  to, 

62,  53,  56,  102. 

CheroJcees,  Mission  to  the,  55. 

CHOATE,  DAVID,  Father  of  Rufus 
Choate,  2. 

CHOATE,  DAVID,  Brother  of 
Rufus,  his  Account  of  Rufus's 
Boyhood,  4. 

CHOATE,  MIRIAM,  Mother  of  Ru 
fus,  3. 

CHOATE,  RUFUS.  His  Birth,  1 ; 
Ancestry  and  Boyhood,  3 ;  Col 
lege  Life,  11 ;  Choice  of  a  Pro 
fession,  15 ;  Is  Tutor  at  Dart 
mouth  College,  21 ;  Enters  Law 
School  at  Cambridge,  23; 
Goes  to  Washington  to  study 
with  Mr.  Wirt,  23;  Death 
of  his  Brother,  Washington 
Choate,  26  ;  Returns  to  Essex, 
26 ;  Testimony  of  Mr.  Wirt, 


26  ;  Admission  to  the  Bar,  27  ; 
Opens  an  Office  in  South  Dan- 
vers,  27  ;  Letter  to  Mr.  Marsh, 
28  ;  Marriage,  29  ;  Removal  to 
Salem,  35 ;  The  Essex  Bar,  85 ; 
Counsel   in  the  Knapp   Case, 
38 ;  His  Studies,  40 ;  Letter  to 
President   Marsh,  42 ;    Nomi 
nated    as    Representative    to 
Congress,  43;   Is  elected,  45; 
Letter     to     President    James 
Marsh,  47;   Enters   Congress, 
48 ;  Speeches  on  Revolutionary 
Pensions  and  on  the  Tariff,  49 ; 
Letters  to  Dr.  Andrew  Nichols, 
60 ;  Letters  to  Professor  George 
Bush,  52,  53 ;  Georgia  and  the 
Missions  to  the   Indians,  55 ; 
Letter  to  Professor  Bush,  56 ; 
Re-elected    to    Congress,   67 ; 
Speech  on  the  Removal  of  the 
Deposits,  58  ;  Resigns  his  Seat, 
59  ;    Removes  to  Boston,  69  ; 
Lectures  on  the  Waverley  Nov 
els  and  on  the  Romance  of  the 
Sea,  60;  Death  of  his  young 
est  Child,  62 ;  His  Professional 
Advancement,   65;   Letters  to 
Richard  S.  Storrs,  Jr.,  66,  67  ; 
Chosen  Senator  in  place  of  Mr. 
Webster,  68 ;  Death  of  General 
Harrison,  68 ;  Eulogy  on  Gen 
eral  Harrison,  68 ;  Speech  on 
the  McLeod  Case,  69 ;  The  Fis 
cal  Bank  Bill,  70 ;  Collision  with 
Mr.  Clay,  70,  77 ;  Nomination  of 
Mr.  Everett  as  Minister  to  Eng 
land,  79  ;  Letter  to  Mr.  Sum- 
ner,  81 ;  Letters  to  his  Son,  82 ; 
Speech  on  providing  Remedial 
Justice  in  the  United  States 
Courts,   84;     Letters   to   Mr. 
Sumner  and  Mr.  Hillard,  87, 88 ; 


466 


INDEX. 


The  North  Eastern  Boundary 
Question,  89 ;  Journal,  91 ;  Ad 
dress  in  New  York,  100 ;  Let 
ter  to  Professor  Bush,  102; 
Letters  to  Mr.  Sumner,  103; 
Letter  to  his  Daughters,  105, 
Debate  on  the  Tariff,  107  ;  Re 
ply  to  Mr.  McDuffie,  110;  Con 
gress  Adjourned,  117  ;  Jour 
nal,  117  ;  Political  Contest  of 
1844,  127  ;  Speaks  for  Mr. 
Clay,  127  ;  Fragmentary  Jour 
nal,  128 ;  Meeting  of  Congress, 
135;  Speech  against  the  An 
nexation  of  Texas,  136 ;  Ad 
mission  of  Iowa  and  Florida, 
138  ;  Establishment  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  139 ; 
Library  Plan^  140  ;  Resignation 
of  his  position  as  Regent,  144 ; 
Letter  to  Hon.  Jesse  D.  Bright, 
144 ;  Letters  to  Hon.  Charles  W. 
Upham,  147  ;  Illness  and  Death 
of  Dr.  Sewall,  149  ;  Letter  to 
Mrs.  Francis  Brinley,  149  ;  Ad 
dress  before  the  Law  School  in 
Cambridge,  151 ;  Case  of  Rhode 
Island  Boundary,  159  ;  Defence 
of  Tirrell,  160  ;  The  Smith  Will 
Case,  170 ;  Speaks  in  favor  of 
General  Taylor,  176 ;  Offer  of 
a  Professorship  in  the  Cam 
bridge  Law  School,  182 ;  Offer 
of  a  Seat  upon  the  Bench,  188 ; 
Lecture  on  the  Puritans,  188 ; 
The  Phillips'  Will  Case,  193 ; 
Fragmentary  Journal,  195 ; 
Change  of  Partnership,  200; 
Voyage  to  Europe,  200 ;  Let 
ters  to  Mrs.  Choate,  201 ;  Jour 
nal,  206 ;  Union  Meetings,  232 ; 
Address  on  Washington,  232; 
The  Case  of  Fairchild  y.  Ad 
ams,  238;  Methodist  Church 
Case,  242  ;  Address  before  the 
Story  Association,  244  ;  Letters 
to  his  Son,  246,  247  ;  Webster 
Meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  249 ; 
India  Rubber  Case  Argued, 
250 ;  Baltimore  Convention, 
250;  Address  to  the  Phi-Beta 
Kappa  Society  in  Burlington, 
Vt.,  260;  Journey  to  Quebec, 
263;  Death  of  Mr.  Webster, 


264;  Letter  to  E.  Jackson, 
Esq.,  265 ;  Letter  to  Harvey 
Jewell,  Esq.,  2(55 ;  Letters  to 
Mrs.  Eames,  267,  271,  272,  277, 
280;  Offer  of  the  Attorney- 
Generalship,  268 ;  Convention 
to  revise  the  Constitution  of 
Massachusetts,  268  ;  Eulogy  on 
Daniel  Webster  at  Dartmouth 
College,  269  ;  Letter  to  Mr. 
Everett,  272  ;  Letters  to  his 
Son,  273,  275 ;  Letters  to  his 
Daughter,  270,  274,  276  ;  Ad 
dress  at  the  Dedication  of  the 
Peabody  Institute  at  Danvers, 
277 ;  Letter  to  Mr.  Everett, 
277  ;  Accident  and  Illness,  278  ; 
Letter  to  Mr.  Eames,  279  ;  Let 
ter  to  the  Whig  Convention 
at  Worcester,  284;  Speaks  at 
Faneuil  Hall,  287  ;  Letter  to 
Rev.  Chandler  Robbins,  287; 
Lecture  on  the  Early  British 
Poets  of  this  Century,  289; 
Letters  to  Mr.  Everett,  288, 
323 ;  Sir  Walter  Scott,  291 ; 
Letter  to  Hon.  William  M. 
Evarts,  301 ;  Political  Cam 
paign  of  1856,  300 ;  Determines 
to  support  Mr.  Buchanan,  301 ; 
Letter  to  the  Whigs  of  Maine, 
301 ;  Address  at  Lowell,  308 ; 
Letter  to  J.  C.  Walsh,  311; 
His  Library,  313 ;  Lecture  on 
the  Eloquence  of  Revolutionary 
Periods,  314 ;  Defence  of  Mrs. 
Dalton,  315;  Lecture  on  Jef 
ferson,  Burr,  and  Hamilton, 
324 ;  Oration  before  the  Boston 
Democratic  Club,  July,  1858, 
832 ;  Letter  to  Hon.  George  T. 
Davis,  331  ;  Failing  Health, 
334;  Speech  at  the  Webster 
Festival,  1859,  335 ;  Address  at 
the  Essex  Street  Church,  335 ; 
His  last  Law  Case,  341 ;  Goes 
to  Dorchester,  343 ;  Decides  to 
go  to  Europe,  345 ;  Letter  to 
Hon."Charles  Eames,  345  ;  Let 
ter  to  Hon.  A.  A.  Abbott,  346 ; 
Embarks  for  Europe,  346  ;  Ill 
ness  on  Board,  346;  Lands  at 
Halifax,  347  ;  Letter  from  Hon. 
George  S.  Hillard,  347;  Sud- 


INDEX. 


467 


deii  Death,  351;  Proceedings 
of  Public  Bodies  at  Halifax, 
851 ;  Meeting  of  the  Essex  and 
Suffolk  Bars,  352 ;  Speeches  of 
Hon.  C.  G.  Loring,  II.  H.  Dana, 
Jr.,  Judge  Curtis,  and  Judge 
Sprague,  353  ;  Meeting  in  Fan- 
euil  Hall,  376  ;  Address  of  Mr. 
Everett,  376  ;  Letter  from  Hon. 
J.  H.  Clifford,  388;  Habits  in 
his  Office,  391;  Method  of 
Preparation  of  Cases,  394; 
Manner  of  Legal  Study,  392  ; 
Intercourse  with  the  younger 
Members  of  the  Bar,  400 ;  Man 
ner  to  the  Court,  401 ;  Charges 
and  Income,  403;  Manner  to 
the  Jury,  407 ;  Vocabulary, 
408;  Wit  and  Humor,  408; 
Conversations  and  Anecdotes, 
413;  Eloquence,  417;  Power 
over  an  Audience,  420  ;  Exag 
gerations,  421 ;  Style,  425;  Let 
ter  from  Rev.  Joseph  Tracy, 
425;  Memory,  428;  Quota 
tions,  429 ;  Fondness  for  Books, 
431 ;  Favorite  Pursuits,  432 ; 
Conversation,  435 ;  Scholar 
ship,  431 ;  Home  Life,  441  ; 
Fondness  for  Music,  448  ;  Con 
versational  Power,  451 ;  Gen 
tleness,  449  ;  Handwriting, 
453  ;  Appearance,  453  ;  Gener 
al  Health,  454 ;  Feelings  upon 
Religious  Subjects,  455;  Death, 
457. 

CHOATE,  RUFUS,  Jr.,  Letters  to, 

246,  247,  273,  275. 
-CHOATE,  SARAH  B.,  Letters  to, 
270,  274,  276. 

CHOATE,  WASHINGTON,  Death  of, 
26. 

CLAY,  HENRY,  Mr.  Choate's  col 
lision  with,  70,  77. 

CLIFFORD,  J.  H.,  Letter  from,  388. 

Constitution  of  Massachusetts,  Con 
vention  to  revise  the,  268. 

Convention  of  Whigs  at  Baltimore, 
250. 

Convention  to  Revise  the  Constitution 
of  Massachusetts,  268. 

CROWNINSHIELD,  BENJAMIN  W., 
44. 

CURTIS,  B.  R.,  Address  of,  367. 


DALTON,  Mrs.,  Defence  of,  315. 
DANA,   R.    H.,  Jr.,  Address   of, 

360. 
DAVIS,    GEORGE    T.,   Letter  to, 

331. 
Declaration  of  Independence,    The, 

Glittering 'Generalities  of,  306. 
Democratic   Club,   Oration    before 

the,  332. 

EAMES,  CHARLES,  279,  345. 
EAMES,  Mrs.,  Letters  to,  267,  271, 

272,  277,  280. 
Eloquence  of  Revolutionary  Periods, 

314. 
Essex  Street  Church,  Address  at, 

335. 
EVARTS,  WILLIAM  M.,  Letter  to, 

301. 
EVERETT,  EDWARD,  Nomination 

of,  as  Minister  to  England,  79 ; 

Letters  to,  272,  277,  288,  323 ; 

Address  of  at  Faneuil  Hall,  on 

the  Death  of  Mr.  Choate,  376. 

FAIRCHILD   v.  ADAMS,  Case  of, 

238. 

Faneuil  Hall,  Meeting  in,  376. 
Faneuil  Hall,  Speech  at,  287. 
Fiscal  Bank  Bill,  Speech  on  the, 

71. 
Florida,  Admission  of,  into  the 

Union,  138. 

HARDIN,  BENJAMIN,  58. 

HARRISON,  President,  Inaugura 
tion  and  Death  of,  68  ;  Eulogy 
on,  68. 

HILLARD,  GEORGE  S.,  Letter 
from,  347 ;  Letter  to,  88. 

HUNTINGTON,  ASAHEL,  Letter  of, 
32. 

Independence.     See  Declaration. 

India  Rubber  Case,  250. 

Iowa,    Admission    of,    into    the 

Union,  138. 
Ipswich,  Address  at,  59. 

JACKSON,  E.,  Letter  to,  265. 
JEWELL,  HARVEY,  Letter  to,  265. 

KNAPP,  J.  F.,  Trial  of,  38. 
KOSSUTH,  260. 


468 


INDEX. 


Law  School,  Cambridge,  Address 
delivered  before,  161 ;  Offer  of 
a  Professorship  in,  182. 

LORING,  C.  G.,  Address  of,  353. 

Lowell,  Speech  at,  308. 

LUNT  GEORGE,  356. 

MARSTERS,  Rev.  J.  M.,  484. 
MARSH,  Rev.  Dr.  JAMES,  Letters 

to,  28,  42,  47. 

McDumE,  Mr.,  Answer  to,  110. 
McLsoD,  ALEXANDER,  Case  of, 

69. 

New-England  Society  of  New  York, 

Address  before,  lOO. 
NICHOLS,  Dr.  ANDREW,  Letter  to, 

60. 
North-Eastern  Boundary  Question, 


OLCOTT,  MILLS,  29. 

OLIVER,  STEPHEN,  Letter  from, 

43. 
Oregon    Question,    the,     Speeches 

upon,  76. 

Peabody  Institute,  Address  at  the 
Dedication  of,  277. 

Pensions,  Revolutionary,  Speech  on, 
49. 

PERLET,  Chief  Justice,  Eulogy 
by,  18. 

Phi-Beta  Kappa  Society  of  the  Uni 
versity  of  Vermont,  Address  be 
fore  the,  260. 

Phillips's  Will  Case,  193. 

Poland,  Lecture  on,  69. 

Puritans  of  New  England,  their 
Character,  188. 

Remedial  Justice,  Speech  on  the, 
providing  further,  in  the  Courts 
of  the  United  States,  84. 

Rhode  Island  Boundary  Case,  159. 

ROBBINS,  Rev.  CHANDLER,  Let 
ter  to,  287. 


SCOTT,WALTER,  His  Genius,  291. 
Sea,  Romance  of  the,  Lecture  on,  60. 
SEWALL,  Dr.,  Death  of,  149. 
SHAW,  Chief  Justice,  Letter  of,  31. 
SMITH,   OLIVER,   Will   Case  of, 

170. 

Smithsonian  Institution,  The,  139. 
SPRAGUE,  Judge,  Address  of,  372. 
STORRS,  RICHARD  S.,  Jr.,  Letters 

to,  66,  67. 
Story  Association,  Address  before 

the,  244. 
SUMNER,  CHARLES,  Letters    to, 

81,  87,  103. 

Tariffs,  Speeches  upon  the,  49, 

107.' 
TAYLOR,  General,  Election  of  as 

President,  176. 

Texas,  The  Annexation  of,  135. 
TICKNOR,  GEORGE,  413. 
TIRRELL,  ALBERT  J.,  Defence  of, 

160. 

TRACY,  E.  C.,  Testimony  of,  12. 
TRACY,     Rev.    JOSEPH,    Letter 

from,  425. 
TYLER,  Vice-President,  assumes 

Duties  of  the  Presidency,  68. 

UPHAM,  CHARLES  W.,  Letters  to, 
147. 

WALSH,  J.  C.,  Letter  to,  811. 

WASHINGTON,  Address  on,  232. 

Waverley  Novels,  Lecture  on,  59. 

WEBSTER,  DANIEL,  Appointed 
Secretary  of  State,  68;  Meet 
ing  in  Eaneuil  Hall  in  Honor 
of,  249  ;  Death  of,  264. 

Whig  Convention  at  Baltimore,  250. 

Whigs  of  Maine,  Letter  to,  301. 

Whigs,  Convention  of,  at  Worces 
ter,  284. 

WHIPPLE,  E.  P.,  415. 

WINSLOW,  Rev.  HUBBARD,  62; 
Letter  to,  62. 

WIRT,  Hon.  WILLIAM,  Testi 
mony  of,  26. 


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